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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26050765">Haven</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandpaperqwerty/pseuds/inkandpaperqwerty'>inkandpaperqwerty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angel Wings, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Caretaker Dean Winchester, Caretaker Sam Winchester, Caring Dean Winchester, Caring Sam Winchester, Castiel Whump (Supernatural), Creature Castiel (Supernatural), Developing Friendships, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Feels, Friendship, Gen, Good Parent John Winchester, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Infection, Learning to trust, Male Friendship, Mute Castiel (Supernatural), Non-Sexual Slavery, Past Rape/Non-con, Protective John Winchester, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Slave Castiel (Supernatural), Slavery, Trust Issues, Wingfic, Wings, monster hunting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:01:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>60,954</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26050765</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandpaperqwerty/pseuds/inkandpaperqwerty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Monster hunters are in high demand, and nobody gets the job done like the hunters living in John Winchester's compound. While on a supply run, John takes a chance and buys an angel on the verge of death, despite knowing his youngest son will be appalled. Sam takes one look at the angel and immediately jumps into action, doing all he can to nurse the angel back to health. </p><p>“You always wanted a dog. This is close enough, right, Sammy?”</p><p>Yeah, sure. It's close enough.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel &amp; Dean Winchester, Castiel &amp; Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, Castiel &amp; Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>224</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Well, if you don’t have enough in stock, you shouldn’t run a sale.”</p><p>“Come on, John, this is a hunter’s market, not freakin’ Pier One. I have what I have when I have it.”</p><p>John heaved a sigh, putting a hand on his hip and looking around the store. “Okay, well, what do you have that will put me over the five-hundred-dollar mark <em>without </em>making the discount completely pointless?”</p><p>Ray arched a brow and gave John a look. “You never struck me as the middle-class soccer mom type.” He immediately held up his hands—a smart reaction, they both knew—and gestured toward the back. “I got a couple creatures back there.”</p><p>“You know I don’t bring creatures back to the compound.” John glared, not moving from his side of the counter. “It’s my job to keep the hunters at my compound alive and healthy. I don’t want anything alive or anything that could hurt one of my people, I just want supplies.”</p><p>“Come on,” Ray egged, moving toward the door to the back. “At least take a look. We’re rotating soon, so most of these guys are on the brink of death anyway. They can’t fight back. We’ll put’em down Friday and get a new shipment Monday.”</p><p>John didn’t budge. “What would be the point of buying one if they’re almost dead?”</p><p>Ray indicated the door and shrugged. “They’re not good for a profit, but they’re still good for pieces.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It all depends on what you use most during hunts.”</p><p>John pulled his cellphone out and checked the time. They were supposed to be meeting up to go back to compound in less than an hour, and John didn’t like being the last one to show. On top of that, John knew Ray, and John had gone into the store knowing he would probably wind up making an unnecessary purchase to get the allover benefit he was looking for.</p><p>“Alright, fine, I’ll take a look.” John followed Ray into the back, casting his eyes around the different cages and boxes. “And you don’t have the ammo I need anywhere in any of these boxes?”</p><p>Ray flicked on the secondary light and leaned against one of the nearby kennels. “John, I might be a crook, but I like making money. If I had your bullets, I’d sell’em to you, I’d just cheat you in the process.”</p><p>John snorted. “You’d try.” He glanced down at the kennel next to Ray, acutely aware of the fact that it wasn’t empty. “What’s that?”</p><p>“Oh, this?” Ray stopped leaning and crouched down. “I think this one is my angel.” He smacked the side of the cage with the back of his hand and whistled loudly.</p><p>Whatever was inside jumped, lifting its head enough to peer out with electric blue eyes.</p><p>John leaned forward slightly and peered right back, glaring slightly just to get a reaction.</p><p>It pushed itself into the corner and dropped its eyes to its feet, curled up and shaking, its own wings wrapped tightly around itself.</p><p>“Angels are pretty rare,” John commented. “Why didn’t he sell?”</p><p>“He was in bad shape when I got him.” Ray hit the cage again, and the angel jumped. He hit it again, another jump. “It’s normal for something to jump once or twice.” He hit it again, same reaction. “But when a monster knows what’s gonna happen,” another hit, another jump, “and it knows it’s not gonna get hurt,” hit and jump, “but it still jumps, it’s pretty far gone.”</p><p>John crouched down and tried to get a better look at the angel. <em>Hmm…</em></p><p>John wouldn’t deny that angels were useful. Between their feathers, blood, and Grace, they were a near-limitless source of ingredients for spells and rituals. They made good bait, because lots of creatures could sense and were drawn to the essence their Grace gave off. They were also powerful, and that made them dangerous, but… the creature in front of him was beaten down and terrified. John got the idea it would lick his boots if told to.</p><p>“So, you’ll sell him for one-fifty?”</p><p>Ray’s eyes widened. “He’s a beat-up angel, but he’s still an angel, John. He’s worth three-fifty at least.”</p><p>John gave Ray a hard look. “You’re gonna put him down in two days, and I’m only back here because I need to hit a mark. Two hundred, take it or leave it.”</p><p>Ray hesitated and looked toward the ceiling, as if he were pondering whether or not to take the deal.</p><p>“Cut the crap, Ray.” John stood up and headed back toward the front of the store. “I know your tells. I’ll be loading the rest of my stuff in the car, <em>including </em>the free med kits I earned.” He shook his head and huffed out a sigh, going out front and grabbing the first of many boxes.</p><p>All in all, it took about twenty minutes to fully load his pickup truck, and then Ray helped him slide the caged angel into the slot John had left open for it. John paid for his purchases, slammed the tailgate shut, and got in the driver’s seat with a heavy sigh.</p><p>John pondered the angel as he drove, going over the observations he had made once it was out in the light. It was filthy, for starters, and there appeared to be quite a few bruises layered underneath all the grime and sweat. It had dark hair, and those striking eyes had been screwed shut once exposed to the harsh light of the sun. It was pale, and John wasn’t going to pretend he hadn’t seen the blood smeared between its thighs; though, whether that was a dominance display from another monster or punishment from a hunter or some variation thereof, John didn’t know.</p><p>Regardless, it wouldn’t be fighting back in its condition, and if it didn’t fight back, no one would get hurt. Still, it was staying in the garage under tight lock and key; John wasn’t about to risk anybody else’s lives with his purchase. He might have been leader of the camp, but that didn’t give him the right to put his own wants and desires over the safety of everyone he gave orders to.</p><p>John set the thoughts aside when he saw the caravan up ahead, and he eased his truck onto the side of the road right in front of Bobby’s.</p><p>“What in blue blazes is in the back of your truck, John?”</p><p>John smirked and got out, walking around to the back as Bobby approached. “Something I bought in an effort to keep Ray from cheating me.”</p><p>Bobby arched a brow and looked into the cage, folding his arms over his chest. “That’s one way to do it, I guess.” He glanced back at John. “You still wanna put a tarp over everything?”</p><p>John nodded. “They’re calling for rain. I figure the angel doesn’t want to get wet any more than I want the boxes getting rained on.” He leaned against the side of the truck bed and gestured to the cage. “Besides, I think it’s got some kind of sensitivity to light. Tarp might help it adjust to the outside.”</p><p>Bobby lifted his baseball cap and scratched his scalp a few times before replacing the hat with a sigh. “Well, might as well give it a go.”</p><p>John nodded and followed Bobby back to his truck to get the tarp. He was almost there when he came to a sudden stop and swore loudly.</p><p>“What?” Bobby asked, giving him an odd look.</p><p>“Sam.” John ran a hand down his face and sighed. “He’s gonna give me a dissertation on inhumane treatment of animals and monsters.” As if the two didn’t have enough to fight about, especially recently, John was going to go ahead and bring home a new source of conflict.</p><p>“I could do without the laughing, Singer.”</p><hr/><p>John put the truck in park and let out a heavy sigh. <em>Okay. Let's get this over with. </em>He opened his door and got out, knowing his boys would be there any second to help unload. Both of them. Including Sam.</p><p>“You still alive in there?” John asked, poking his head under the tarp and finding the angel in the same shuddering, curled-up position as it had been in when they left the market. “Hoo, boy. This is gonna go well.”</p><p>John pulled his head back out just in time to see Dean coming out the front door. Dean rubbed his hands together as he approached, grinning as he looked at the truck.</p><p>“Man, you got a lot of goodies.”</p><p>“You have no idea,” John muttered. “Where's your brother?”</p><p>Dean jerked a thumb over his shoulder, frowning. “He’s coming. Why?”</p><p>“He's not gonna be happy about a purchase I made.” John have Dean a sideways sort of glance. “Come to think of it, you might not, either.” They had never really talked about monsters outside of how to kill them, and Dean never weighed in on the arguments between Sam and John over monster treatment.</p><p>Dean stared, clearly confused, but if he had any more questions, he kept them to himself.</p><p>John looked over Dean's shoulder at the house and watched Sam walk toward them. Sam looked like he was already in a bad mood, or at least tired.</p><p>
  <em>Great.</em>
</p><p>Sam slowed down as he approached. “Uh… why are you just standing there staring at me?”</p><p>John sighed and jerked his head in the direction of the truck. “Made a purchase you're not gonna like.”</p><p>Sam squinted, confused.</p><p>“It wasn't planned, I was just making Ray keep up his end of the deal.” He couldn't really put it off any longer. “I got an angel.”</p><p>Sam’s face was immediately drawn with disgust and frustration. “Dad—”</p><p>“I'll hear the lecture later, Sam. It’s in pretty rough shape, and even though we're <em>keeping it in the garage,</em>” he gave Sam a pointed look, “I don't see a reason not to patch it up as soon as possible.”</p><p>Dean looked at the truck curiously. “You don't think it'll attack once it's feeling better?”</p><p>John shook his head. “Not likely.”</p><p>Sam's brows shot up to his hairline. “You don’t think a monster is going to attack as soon as it can?” His eyes darted between the truck and John. “Who are you and what have you done with my dad?”</p><p>“Ha ha, you're so funny.” John dropped the tailgate, hearing the angel jump from the loud bang. “I wouldn't have brought him to the camp if I thought he could be a threat.”</p><p>John pulled the tarp back without preamble, suddenly exposing the half of the cage that faced the back of the truck. Inside the cage, the angel leapt back and whimpered, pressed against the far side and curled up in its perpetual ball. John looked to his boys for a reaction.</p><p>Surprisingly, it was Dean who recovered from the shock and approached first. “Well, crap. Forget rough shape, it's a mess.”</p><p>John gave a tight-lipped smile and a nod, a combination that never failed to relay his displeasure with a situation. “We’re not getting it out of the cage until we're in the garage.”</p><p>“He's not an it,” Sam snapped, apparently over his shock and able to determine the gender of the thing he was looking at. “He's a he.”</p><p>John sighed, getting up on the truck. <em>It begins. </em>He looked at Sam. “You gonna help us get <em>him</em> in the garage, or are you gonna stand there and give me a civil rights speech?”</p><p>Sam struggled with himself for a moment—John almost made a comment—but Sam ultimately nodded and stood next to the tailgate.</p><p>“Dean, help me get it to the edge, then get down with Sam.”</p><p>“Got it.” Dean, ever obedient, immediately moved to follow orders. “Here we go.”</p><p>Throughout the entire moving process, John couldn't help but think of a cat every time the angel reacted. It moved to the center of the cage once it realized there would be people all around it, and then it braced its arms and legs to keep it from toppling over. Black feathers ruffled and puffed up, touching every corner of the cage. If it had a tail, it would have been frizzed and sticking straight up, body tense and close to the ground.</p><p>“Easy,” Sam muttered as they put the cage on the floor of the garage. “Easy does it.”</p><p>“Thanks, Sam.” Dean grunted and let go of the cage, straightening up. “If you hadn't said that, I’d’a chucked the whole thing down and then kicked it for good measure.”</p><p>Sam gave Dean a look.</p><p>John put his hands on his hips and looked at the angel. “Well, who wants to get him out?”</p><p>Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, and then Sam took a breath and raised his hand slightly. “Me, I guess.” He crouched down in front of the door and started sliding the locking mechanism.</p><p>“You can clean him up in the outside shower,” John said, his mind already back on the truckload of supplies he had to unload. He trusted Sam wouldn't let the angel do anything too ridiculous.</p><p>Sam looked up at John in confusion. “How did I get stuck doing this?”</p><p>John shrugged. “You always wanted a dog. This is close enough, right, Sammy?” John slapped Sam on the back and started for the door, ignoring the face Sam gave him. “Dean, help me unload the truck. Sam, don't do anything stupid.”</p><p>With that, John left, wondering if he had just made the biggest mistake in hunting history.</p><hr/><p>Sam blew his bangs out of his eyes and put his attention on the caged angel, waiting until he heard the garage door close behind his father and brother to try anything.</p><p>“Hey, there, little guy.” Though, Sam supposed, the angel wasn’t exactly <em>little. </em>He was actually quite large. “You gonna come out here for me?”</p><p>Blue eyes stared back at Sam, wild and searching, as the angel shook his head.</p><p>“Come on, buddy.” Sam stepped away from the open door and gestured to the mostly empty garage. “I need you to come out here.”</p><p>The angel looked at the room and then looked at Sam again, crouching low and shaking his head, a low whine rising in his throat.</p><p>Sam wet his lips and considered going for a more hands-on tactic—letting the angel take his time wasn’t an option with the state he was in—but then Sam had a thought. Jo had a cat, and Sam had often watched in amusement as Jo repeated the same command over and over until the little, mewing protests died out the feline reluctantly slinked off to do as it was told.</p><p>
  <em>He doesn’t want to come out, but he has to know I’m bigger and stronger than he is. Most angels are strictly predators, but this one is predator and prey, like a cat. Maybe I can…</em>
</p><p>Sam cleared his throat and gestured to the garage again. “Come out, angel.”</p><p>The angel whimpered and shook his head again, pushing back into the corner of the cage. He was refusing, but he was scared.</p><p>“<em>Out, </em>angel. Now.”</p><p>He shook his head again, letting out a little whine and flattening his wings.</p><p>“Come <em>out, </em>angel.”</p><p>Headshake, little cry, little smaller.</p><p>“Out.”</p><p>Headshake, shudder.</p><p>“Out.”</p><p>Headshake.</p><p>“<em>Out.</em>”</p><p>The angel whimpered softly but started to crawl forward, staying low to the ground, wings shielding almost his entire body. He crept out of the cage and put his nose to the floor, peering up at Sam with pleading eyes as he whined again.</p><p>Sam almost replied with a ‘good boy’ before remember he was, in fact, dealing with a person. “Thank you.” He reached out and slowly shut the cage door before easing himself into a sitting position. “My name’s Sam. What’s yours?”</p><p>Sam knew his behavior must have seemed out of the ordinary to the angel, but the angel didn’t show any confusion or curiosity on his face. Just terror. Pure, unadulterated terror.</p><p>“I’d really like to have a name to call you by.” Sam smiled kindly, slouching slightly so he wasn’t towering so much. “You don’t have to tell me your real name, if you don’t want. Just… something.”</p><p>For several seconds, the angel just stared some more, but then his lips started to move. “C…” He flinched back at the sound of his own voice, pressing his entire body to the cold concrete in the most submissive position Sam had ever seen. It almost reminded Sam of a playful dog, the way the angel’s chest was pressed to the ground with both hands splayed on the concrete in front of him. Except, instead of having his rear end in the air, metaphorical tail wagging excitedly, the angel kept the back end of his body plastered just as low as the front end, wings drawn in as tightly as they could be.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Sam encouraged softly. “I want to know your name. You can tell me. You won’t get in trouble.”</p><p>There was another moment of hesitation, and then the angel let out a small whine, pressing his cheek to the floor and peering up at Sam. “Cas...” He coughed, cleared his throat, and coughed again, his body still so unbelievably <em>flat. </em>“Castiel.”</p><p>“Castiel?” Sam smiled again, trying to seem as friendly and non-threatening as possible. “It’s nice to meet you, Castiel. I wish it had been under different circumstances.” He wet his lips and vaguely indicated Castiel’s body, earning another flinch. “You, uh… you don’t look like you feel very well. Can you walk?”</p><p>Castiel was still for several seconds, and then he lifted his face from the floor enough to offer the faintest nod possible.</p><p>“Good.” Sam got up as slowly as he could, but it still made Castiel flinch and whimper. “I just need you to come with me, okay? We’re gonna get you cleaned up and feeling better.”</p><p>Castiel whined again and backed up, shaking his head and drawing his wings in closer.</p><p>Sam held out his hands in a placating gesture. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”</p><p>Castiel backed up a little more, shrinking and coiling around his own abdomen protectively, one hand moving down toward his crotch.</p><p>Sam wet his lips and bent his knees slightly, not going so far as to crouch back down. “Castiel, I know you don’t know me… and I know you’re scared… but I just want to help you get cleaned up. I’m sure you don’t want anyone touching you, but we don’t really have a choice.”</p><p>Castiel continued to stare, breathing hard, quivering in his ball of feathers and flesh.</p><p>Sam let out a soft sigh and crouched, but he stayed on his haunches, not wanting to return to a full sit. “You’re probably not used to getting sick or injured, are you? Everything I’ve read on angels says you’re basically immortal.” He kept his tone and expression soft, trying to relay as much of a sense of safety as he could, and he tried not to gesture with his hands too much. “But, uh, if you get an open wound in your skin—one that bleeds or oozes in some way—and you don’t keep it clean, it gets infected. It becomes red and inflamed and extremely painful… and the longer it stays that way, the deadlier it gets.” He wet his lips, seeing some semblance of comprehension in Castiel’s eyes. “I <em>really </em>need you to let me help you clean up and take care of your wounds. I know you’re scared, and I know you don’t trust me, but it could get really, <em>really </em>bad if we don’t take care of it right away.”</p><p>Castiel considered Sam for a long moment, his fear receding ever-so-slightly to make room for curious calculation. He slowly pushed himself off the ground and got his feet beneath him, freezing in that crouched position and watching Sam with suspicious, frightened eyes. He straightened a little, stopped, straightened a little more, stopped…</p><p>Castiel repeated the process while Sam stared, a swath of panic and pity burning through his chest. <em>Dad never would have bought him if he knew Castiel was in this bad a shape.</em></p><p>Castiel already had infected wounds, which was probably why the explanation of what his body was doing was so effective, and there were bruises and bite marks patterned across his neck, chest, stomach, thighs, and upper arms. And Sam knew the angel’s back was in a similar state, because that was what he had seen in the first place. Then, of course, came the copious amounts of dried blood between Castiel's legs that Sam had been trying to ignore ever since John pulled the tarp back.</p><p>
  <em>Okay, so, infections and some yellowing bruises. It must have happened a while ago… but how long ago? </em>
</p><p>Though, Sam supposed, it didn’t really matter. As long as it hadn’t happened while his dad was shopping. Not that Sam thought John would partake in anything that cruel, but… he might condone it if the monster had enough of a violent history, or if the information it had was important enough… might turn a blind eye if the circumstances were extreme…</p><p>
  <em>It doesn’t matter. Castiel was raped and beaten long before Dad laid eyes on him. Dad had nothing to do with any of… this.</em>
</p><p>“You alright?” Sam took a step back, wanting to offer a helping hand but knowing an approach would probably scare Castiel more than anything. “Can you follow me?”</p><p>Castiel offered a faint nod and took a hesitant step, watching Sam with eerily unblinking eyes.</p><p><em>Maybe angels don’t need to blink. </em>Sam kept a smile on his face and continued to walk toward the back door to the garage, twisting the knob and opening it up. <em>Of course, they aren’t supposed to need a lot of things, and… Castiel looks very needy.</em></p><p>Castiel kept a considerable distance, wings folded close to his body and shielding his arms from sight. He glanced between Sam and the open door, slowing to a stop when Sam didn’t continue to the other side.</p><p>Sam stepped out and held the door, giving Castiel and apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let go of the door until you’re out here with me.” Castiel might shut and lock it from the inside, and then Sam would be screwed. “I’m standing as far away as I can.”</p><p>Castiel looked at Sam for a long moment, his earlier fear quickly returning as his panicked glances expanded to include over his shoulder. He looked at the open door like it was a wall of fire.</p><p><em>Looks like we’re going to have to play cat again. </em>“Castiel, you need to come out here.”</p><p>Castiel shook his head, making a soft, grunting noise in his throat.</p><p>“Yes. I need you to come out here with me.”</p><p>Castiel shook his head again, letting out a short moan.</p><p>“Come on, Castiel. Out.”</p><p>Castiel tilted his head to the side and hunched down slightly, letting out a quiet whine in lieu of a verbal plea. He looked to Sam imploringly and let out the same noise.</p><p>Sam shook his head. “Sorry, Castiel, but you need to come out. Now.”</p><p>Castiel hunched a little more and cautiously slinked through the door, backing away from Sam as soon as he was over the threshold. He couldn’t go far—the side of the house was just a few feet behind him—but he made the most of it by pressing himself up against the brick wall.</p><p>“Thank you for coming out, Castiel.” Sam slowly closed the garage door and started down the small sidewalk that led down the hill to the back of the house and, beneath the porch that was on level with the house, the outdoor shower. “We’re gonna go in here now.”</p><p>Castiel looked at the shower with nothing but dread on his face, and Sam couldn’t really blame him. It wasn’t as small as some outdoor showers Sam had seen, but it was small enough that having two people inside, plus the wings… well, it would be uncomfortable for anybody, even someone without Castiel’s level of trauma.</p><p>“We need to get the dirt cleaned off so nothing else gets infected.” Sam pointed very discreetly, keeping his hand by his thigh. “All that dried blood and dirt carries bacteria, and it’s going to make your injuries worse.”</p><p>Castiel looked down at himself for half a second, but he was too scared to take his eyes off Sam for very long. He looked over his shoulder for an equally brief moment, and then he inched toward the shower.</p><p>Sam reached inside and turned the hot water knob first.</p><p>Castiel jumped at the sudden noise and scrambled back, crouching in the grass beside the house. He stared at the water flow with a heaving chest and saucers for eyes, tremors rattling his body.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Sam said quickly, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just water.”</p><p>Castiel stared at the water, shaking, but he slowly started crawling forward. He couldn’t put his knees on the ground—they were too bruised and torn—and his arms were struggling to hold him up, but he seemed oblivious to the pain. There was only fear.</p><p>“It’s okay, Castiel. It really is just water.” Sam put his hand under and found it a little too warm for comfort. “I’m gonna twist this one now…” he did what he said as he continued to speak, “…to keep the water from getting too hot. I wouldn’t want to scald you.”</p><p>Castiel slowly inched up to the doorway across from Sam, sinking deeper into his crouch. He tilted his head and looked up at Sam curiously, letting out another whine.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Sam said softly, joining Castiel on the ground. “I just want to help you, Castiel.”</p><p>Castiel looked at Sam for another moment, and then he drew his wings in, making himself very small before scuttling into the stall. He immediately turned around, keeping both eyes on Sam and moving back into the corner.</p><p>“You aren’t going to get very wet back there.”</p><p>Castiel tensed and lowered himself slightly, inching forward, still watching Sam. He stopped once his head and shoulders were under the edge of the spray, muddy water running off him in thin waves. He shook his head and made a sneezing noise, blinking rapidly and shaking his head again.</p><p>“Tilt your head down to keep your mouth and nose away from the water. And… I know it’s scary, but you need to close your eyes to keep the dirty water out.” Sam slipped from a crouch to his knees and moved forward, grabbing the bar of soap from the corner of the stall. “Just… let me help you wash your hair, and then you can do the rest yourself, once your eyes are safe.”</p><p>Castiel flinched back when Sam tried to close the distance between them, but he seemed to realize the truth in what Sam was saying. He eased back under the water, looked up at Sam, ducked down and shook off the water, looked back up, and then ducked his head back down and kept it that way. He took a shuddering breath, and from what Sam could see, it looked like he had closed his eyes.</p><p>“Okay… I’m gonna get some soap on my hands…” Sam was completely soaked, and the water was coming down on him just as much as Castiel, but Sam couldn’t find it in himself to mind. “Now I’m sitting the soap down and moving closer… and now I’m gonna put my hands on your head. Just on the top…”</p><p>Sam continued to murmur a commentary as the cleaning commenced, and while Castiel was far from relaxed, he seemed to respond well to Sam’s monologue.</p><p>“…now I’m gonna use my fingers kind of like a comb and comb through your hair while it’s under the water.” Sam tried to keep his voice loud enough to be heard over the water but soft enough not to be threatening. “That’ll get all the soap out and leave the clean hair behind.”</p><p>Castiel flinched, as he did just about every time Sam moved or spoke or breathed, but he stayed in place, and the longer they sat there, the more relaxed he got. As afraid as he was of Sam—and everything else that moved—he clearly knew there were certain things that needed to be done for the sake of his health.</p><p>Sam felt honored to be the kind of person Castiel closed his eyes around, no matter how desperately Castiel needed what Sam was offering. Castiel had probably desperately needed a lot of things from people who had taken advantage of that need, and Castiel had probably learned not to trust anyone who said they were offering met needs in exchange for obedience. But he still let Sam wash his hair.</p><p>“There we go.” Sam held his hands under the flow for a little to get off the remaining soap, and then he backed almost all the way out of the stall. “Okay, you’re good.”</p><p>Castiel opened his eyes and looked at Sam for a moment before seeking the bar of soap. He put one hand on the ground and leaned forward, slipping into something resembling a crawl…</p><p>…and immediately collapsed.</p><p>“Castiel!” Sam shot forward, and while he wasn’t able to catch Castiel before the fall, he was able to get Castiel’s face off the rough cement rather quickly. “Castiel, are you okay?”</p><p>Castiel only whined, not even trying to get his hands or knees beneath himself.</p><p><em>Of course. He wasn’t relaxing, he was tiring out. </em>Sam could have smacked himself. <em>Check your hubris, Winchester. </em>But guilt wouldn’t do either of them any good, so Sam instead focused on easing Castiel onto his side.</p><p>“It’s alright, Castiel. I’ll help you. I don’t mind.”</p><p>Castiel whimpered, his stomach visibly flexing with the effort of expelling the noise.</p><p>“Shh, it’s okay.” Sam grabbed the rag hanging from the bar on the wooden wall behind him, and then he worked up a good lather. “It’s okay. It’s okay, we’re gonna get you cleaned up.”</p><p>Castiel didn’t say anything, half-lidded eyes no longer capable of the laser-focus that had followed Sam’s every movement up to that point. Castiel whimpered again, fingers twitching, and Sam got the idea it was more a noise of helpless frustration than anything.</p><p>
  <em>He finally gets a chance to be the only one touching his body, and he physically can’t do it.</em>
</p><p>Sam decided the best thing he could do was another talk-through. “This is the same soap I used on your hair, I just put it on this rag instead of my hands.” Sam rubbed his face on his own sleeve, trying to clear away the water. “I’m gonna do the best I can to avoid the bruises and cuts, okay?”</p><p>Castiel just lay there, open-mouthed and panting, wings occasionally fluttering behind him and creating a secondary shower. Sam didn’t mind the spray; he simply kept up with his commentary as he washed Castiel’s body.</p><p>“I’ll use some Dawn dish soap on your wings then… don’t worry, it’s safe for use on wings.” Bird wings, anyway. “I know this cut is really tender, so I’m trying to be careful, but I do need to clean the area around it, so a little pain can’t be helped.” He didn’t want to think about the eventual need to lance the wound. “I’ve never bandaged a knee before—at least, not with an injury this big—so that’ll be a bit of trial-and-error to figure out what works best.”</p><p>Sam’s commentary continued as he worked his way down Castiel’s body, cleaning as gently and quickly as he could. And then came the part of the shower Sam was least looking forward to; one he had initially hoped Castiel could take care of himself.</p><p>“Okay, so… I know this isn’t what you want, and if you could do it, I would let you… but can’t <em>not </em>clean your… private areas.” Sam winced at his own words. “They can get infected just like any other opening in your body. Especially if you don’t get treated after…” Rape. But Sam didn’t want to say that. “I promise, I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t necessary.”</p><p>Castiel mewled unhappily, his abdomen once again flexing, and his eyes slid shut for a moment. He sucked in a breath and forced out another sound, face twisted up in discomfort and pain.</p><p>“I <em>promise</em>, Castiel, I <em>just </em>want to help you get cleaned up. That’s all. Nothing else.” Sam took a deep breath and reached out, gently pulling Castiel’s cheeks away from each other to survey the damage.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, crap.</em>
</p><p>Sam get out a little breath and pulled his hands off Castiel. “Okay, um…” He wet his lips and decided to shove off any notions of awkwardness he might have had. “Um, do you know what they put in you?”</p><p>Castiel’s eyes slowly wandered up Sam’s body to his face. Castiel gave a slight headshake, and the fear seemed to be going back into his eyes, even with his crippling exhaustion.</p><p>“Uh, well… it’s called an anal plug… for obvious reasons.” Sam cleared his throat, using his arm to push back the wet hair plastered to his face. “And, uh, I know right now it probably hurts, but it’s not <em>made </em>to hurt. It’s… actually made to bring pleasure.”</p><p>Castiel’s eyes fell back to Sam’s knees, exhaustion emanating from every pore, his stomach moving despite the lack of sound. Or at least, the lack of a sound Sam could hear.</p><p>“I need to take the… I need to take it out, and, uh, it’s probably gonna hurt.” Which was likely the intention of whoever had put it in. “But… it’s not causing any new damage, okay? Again, it’s not <em>supposed </em>to be painful, so if it is, it’s just aggravating the wounds that are already there. It’s not sharp or rough or anything. Okay?”</p><p>Castiel was unresponsive for a moment, and then he offered a jerky nod, eyes unfocused but glassy with tears that said he clearly understood what was happening. He wished he didn’t, but he did.</p><p>“Okay, good. I just… I didn’t want you thinking I was tearing up your insides or something. That’s… not happening.” Sam sighed softly. “I just have to get it out, and then I’ll throw it away. You never have to see it again.”</p><p>Castiel’s eyes flickered hopefully at that, but the light was quick to die out. Whether he was too tired to be excited, or realism reminded him Sam was likely lying, Sam didn’t know.</p><p>“Okay, here we go.” Sam took a deep breath and used his thumb and forefinger to spread Castiel’s cheeks a bit. He grabbed the flared, silicon base with the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. He almost told Castiel to try and relax—that it would come out easier if he did—but he was afraid Castiel’s rapist had said something similar when putting it in… or putting other things in…</p><p><em>I’ll just have to be gentle. </em>“Easy…” Sam tugged slowly and steadily, watching the black ball stretch Castiel’s rim before popping out, and its size had him muttering curses under his breath. <em>I hope this wasn’t his first time. </em>Sam doubted he would be that lucky, though; Castiel hadn’t even known what the intrusion was called<em>. </em>He clearly wasn’t experienced with sex toys. Though, maybe that was just because he was an angel. Maybe they didn't use those sorts of things.</p><p>
  <em>Does it matter? </em>
</p><p>In some ways, yes. But in most ways, no.</p><p>Sam swallowed hard and pulled on the base again, drawing out another section that was slightly smaller and caked with old blood and semen. “You’re doing great, Castiel. You’re doing really great.” He continued to pull, keeping his movements slow and steady, and once the next portion was through, Castiel’s body pushed out the rest on its own, followed by a trail of fluids that streaked down his thigh.</p><p>Sam tossed the toy away as if it had burned him.</p><p>“There, it’s gone.” Sam was rubbing Castiel’s back below the wings before his brain could really process that prolonged physical contact with a rape victim probably wasn’t a good idea. “It’s gone, Castiel, it’s okay. It’s over. It’s gone.”</p><p>Castiel gulped down a few breaths and curled his legs up toward his chest, trying to push against the ground with his hands and feet to get distance between himself and Sam.</p><p>“Shh, it’s okay.” Sam immediately removed his hand. “Castiel, I’m not—” He swallowed hard, his stomach churning. “I’m not going to put anything else in you, okay? That’s not why I took it out. We just have to clean you up, that’s all. You don’t ever have to put anything in there again, not if you don’t want to.”</p><p>Castiel only whimpered and pushed some more, dragging his body backward until he hit the wall, which drew a pained cry from his lips.</p><p>“Castiel, please—you’re scraping your wounds open.” Sam reached out to try and stop the frantic movements, but then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to touch and backed up instead, raising his hands a little. “Um, okay, I… I need to get some gloves and clothes for you, anyway. So, you just… take a breath and rest for a little.” Sam moved over to the door. “Stay here, Castiel. Do <em>not </em>leave the shower.”</p><p>Castiel nodded his head and whined, curling up a little more, wings stretching down at an awkward angle to cover his lower half. He looked so scared, and yet, so tired. Maybe he was scared of being tired; of the vulnerability sleep required. Maybe he was tired of being scared.</p><p>If Sam had to guess, he would say it was both.</p><p>“Stay here, Castiel. I’ll be right back.” Sam stepped out of the shower and closed the door behind him, leaning back against it and taking a moment to breathe. <em>This is insane. </em>He put a hand on his stomach, trying to calm the nausea. <em>This is completely insane.</em></p><p>Sam had done his fair share of exploration in his sex life, and if he were honest, despite being thoroughly straight, Sam very much enjoyed anal play. Because of that preference, Sam knew the kind of plug he took out of Castiel could only be bought at BDSM-oriented stores and sites.</p><p>
  <em>How much damage did it do? Were they gradual at all? Did they use lube? What if he needs stitches? What if they perforated his colon? How bad is the internal bleeding? He needs a hospital, not a hunter’s patch job! </em>
</p><p>Sam took another breath and shook his head, pushing off the door and making his way back up the incline toward the garage. It was time to do what he always did when he hit a wall.</p><p>Sam walked through the garage and came out on the other side, spying Dean and John a couple buildings away at the storehouse, still unloading the truck.</p><p>“Dean!” Sam waved his arms over his head and gestured for Dean to come over.</p><p>Dean exchanged a few words with John, and then he approached with spread arms and look of confusion. “What happened to you?”</p><p>“I’m giving Castiel a bath. Or… trying to, anyway.”</p><p>Dean arched a brow. “Castiel?”</p><p>“The angel,” Sam clarified, glancing over his shoulder out of instinct. Hopefully, it hadn’t been a mistake to leave Castiel in the shower alone.</p><p>“Okay, so… what’s up?”</p><p>Sam folded his arms over his chest and looked back at Dean, slowly opening his mouth. “He, uh… he…” Sam shook his head. “I need some latex gloves from the kitchen, and a clean change of clothes that’ll fit him.”</p><p>Dean gave Sam an odd look. “He, uh, he?”</p><p>Sam rubbed the back of his neck and looked over his shoulder again. <em>I hope he isn’t trying to leave. </em>He looked back at Dean. “He was raped. So… gloves.”</p><p>Dean’s eyes widened at the news, and then shifted to a more grossed-out expression, but he was still clearly confused. “He can’t handle his own junk?”</p><p>“No, Dean, he can’t. He can barely move.” Sam didn’t mean for the words to come out so hard and angry, but they did, and then he was looking over his shoulder again. “Just get the stuff, okay? I don’t want to track water into the house.”</p><p>Dean held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, I’ll get the stuff. Geeze.”</p><p>Sam huffed out a small sigh and a quiet ‘thank you,’ and then he went back through the garage. He glanced at the empty cage when he walked by, wondering how long Castiel had been in there, afraid and confused and in pain. How scared Castiel must have been, wondering what was inside him, wondering why it hurt so much to try and take it out, wondering what he had done to provoke his attacker, wondering…</p><p>Sam shook his head and put it out of his mind. He shut the garage door behind him and made his way down the path to the shower, which he found to be, unsurprisingly, locked.</p><p>“Castiel,” Sam sighed softly, reaching up and grabbing the top of the stall wall. “See how it’s open up here?” He wet his lips. “I can climb over the top, so please unlock the door. This is pointless.”</p><p>Castiel didn’t respond, and the stall was too silent for him to be obeying Sam’s command.</p><p>“Castiel.” The Cat Game was three for three. “Unlock the door.”</p><p>Castiel was once again still and silent.</p><p>“Castiel…” Sam wet his lips, abandoning his usual tactic. “Does it hurt?”</p><p>That time, Sam thought he heard something like a sob, and it was followed shortly by another. Castiel shifted inside the stall, his feathers scratching against the wooden walls.</p><p>“I know, buddy. I know it hurts. Please, let me help.”</p><p>“Having a share n’ care session with the angel?”</p><p>Sam jerked and looked over his shoulder with a disapproving expression. “Stop it, Dean.”</p><p>“Aw, come on, Sammy. I’m—”</p><p>“No, seriously, Dean.” Sam knew Dean meant no harm—in fact, he was probably trying to help by lightening the mood, trying to make himself seem less threatening to Castiel—but Sam needed Dean to understand how bad the situation was. “Stop it.”</p><p>Dean received the message loud and clear, faint concern creasing his brow. “Okay.” He held out the bundle in his arms. “Got the gloves and clothes for both of you. Hope the angel likes Zeppelin.”</p><p>Sam offered a faint smile. “Thank you. Just, uh…” He reached out and took a glove from the box and then pointed to the ground. “Just set it down there.”</p><p>With that, Sam turned back to the door and rattled it slightly. “Come on, Castiel. Open the door for me.” He pulled on the handle and then put his hand back on top of the door. “I want to help you.”</p><p>There was another pause, some scuffling and a quiet rattle, and Sam slowly pulled the door open. He poked his head in and found Castiel crouched in the nearest corner, too weak to move any further away.</p><p>“We’re almost done, okay?” Sam crouched down in the doorway and held out the glove. “Do you want to try and do it yourself?”</p><p>Castiel looked at the glove for a moment, but he wasn’t even sitting fully upright in the corner. His stomach moved as he pushed out a moaning sound, his eyes dropping to the ground.</p><p>“You don’t?” That surprised Sam. “Are you afraid? Is there something I should know about?”</p><p>Castiel looked down at himself, uncurling just enough to point to a long, infected laceration in his stomach. He then looked back at Sam, his eyes seeming less afraid and more… sad… than they had before.</p><p>Sam looked at the wound for a few moments and then watched as Castiel slumped down again. “You…” He bit his lip and considered the wound again. No, not the wound… the <em>infected </em>wound. Sam had explained how dirt in an injury could lead to infection, and he had told Castiel what the symptoms were, so maybe—</p><p>“You want me to do it because you won’t know if something’s seriously wrong. Is that right? You want me to make sure there aren’t any problems?”</p><p>Castiel slowly lowered onto his side, still pressed in the corner, a slight nod tugging his head down. He pressed his flushed, tearstained face to the floor and drew his wings in close.</p><p>“That’s okay, I can help.” Sam started fighting with the glove, trying to get it on his still-damp hand. He leaned back and looked out the open door, but Dean was gone.</p><p>
  <em>Good. Castiel doesn’t need an audience.</em>
</p><p>“Okay, so…” Sam pulled the door shut and patted the portion of the shower where water was still coming down. “Can you help me get your legs over here?”</p><p>Castiel inched toward the spray, and thankfully, the shower was small enough that he didn’t have to move far.</p><p>“Thanks.” Sam took a deep breath and thought, ‘screw it’ before he leaned forward and pulled one of Castiel’s legs closer to him. “Your, uh… you’re still pretty… open, so I’m gonna use two fingers, but let me know if it hurts. I’ll switch to one if I need to.”</p><p>Castiel didn’t say or do anything, and Sam had to wonder if the angel was dissociating in favor of acknowledging what was happening. Sam wouldn’t blame him if he was.</p><p>Sam slid his index and middle fingers into Castiel’s rectum as carefully as he could, trying to get a good look at the ring of muscles under the blood caked there. It looked like there had been some tearing… but enough to need stitches? Sam wasn’t sure.</p><p>
  <em>I don’t know what I’m doing.</em>
</p><p>Sam decided to focus on what he could definitely help with, and he turned his attention to Castiel’s insides, feeling some kind of… gooey substance in the cavity. He tried to gently scrape some out, and unsurprisingly, it was more coagulated blood and semen. <em>He bled a lot. </em>Thankfully, nothing that came out resembled the pus that often came with infection. <em>Count the small blessings, I guess.</em></p><p>Sam pushed his fingers back in and pressed against Castiel’s insides, gingerly feeling around for any tears or lumps.</p><p>Castiel moaned quietly, one wing twitching, and his eyes screwed shut.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Sam said softly, freezing as he was. “Does that hurt?”</p><p>Castiel didn’t do anything, but he whined again, and that was basically a yes.</p><p>“I’ll be careful.” Sam tried to move more tenderly, running his fingers over the painful section and feeling nothing that resembled a hole. It was probably stretched, maybe even torn like a muscle or ligament, but it wasn’t perforated.</p><p>“It’s nothing serious.” Sam assured with far more confidence than he felt.</p><p>He continued to clean Castiel out, avoiding the lefthand side of cavity and pulling out more of the gelatinous goop with a wet, farting sound that had him struggling to ignore how awkward the situation was.</p><p>Because maybe it was awkward and disgusting and weird, but Sam was a <em>hunter</em>. He had cleaned up vomit, ghoul guts, <em>zombie </em>guts, brain matter, werewolf drool, webs that came out of an arachne’s who-knew-what… he had lanced infections, stitched up cuts that went to the bone, dug bullets out of tissue and muscle and… and Castiel just had a new kind of injury to add to the list of expertise. It wasn’t Castiel’s fault that he had been raped, and it wasn’t Castiel’s fault that he had been so heavily abused he couldn’t take care of himself, and Castiel didn’t deserve to be made to feel any more shame or discomfort than he already did.</p><p>“Castiel, are you okay?” Sam couldn’t really pull out anymore blood, and even if he could, Castiel was starting to make more pained noises. “You still with me?”</p><p>Castiel let out a quiet groan, and his wing fluttered again, smacking against the wall behind him and spraying water down over the two of them.</p><p>“Okay.” Sam shed his glove and tossed it in the general direction of the discarded butt plug before grabbing the soapy rag. “Here, take this. I’m gonna step out and grab some towels. If there’s anything else you want to clean, go ahead and… do what you can… and then we’ll both get dried off.”</p><p>Castiel looked at the rag for a long time, and then he looked up at Sam, slowly reaching out and taking the fabric. His hand fell to the floor as soon as he grabbed it.</p><p>Sam chose to focus on the more optimistic fact that Castiel no longer fixed his eyes on Sam’s every movement. Apparently, some little bond of trust was being formed.</p><p>“Okay. I’ll be right out there.” Sam offered a little wave and then stepped out.</p><p><em>Okay. Well. That happened. </em>Sam heaved a sigh and opened the small, makeshift closet beside the shower, pulling out a towel for each of them. He kicked off his boots and stuffed them with his still-dry socks—take that, Dean, spending extra money on good boots <em>was </em>worth it—before he set them aside.</p><p>Sam quickly stripped out of his clothes and dried off. He got dressed and tossed his wet clothes in a pile with his towel, figuring he could come back for them later.</p><p>“Castiel?” he called, knocking on the closed door. “Are you done?”</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>“Castiel?” Sam pulled the door out and poked his head in, finding Castiel curled up under the center of the spray. “Are you done?”</p><p>Castiel looked up at him with tired eyes, and then he dropped his head back down without an answer given.</p><p>“Come on, Castiel. We’re almost finished. Once you’re dried off, we’ll get your wounds tended to, and then you can get some sleep.” Sam pushed a pleading note into his voice. “I know you’re tired, Castiel, and I promise, you can sleep soon. You can sleep very, very soon. But I need you to work with me a little while longer.”</p><p>Castiel whined softly and pushed his hands against the cement, limbs trembling. He tried to get up, but he only managed half a foot before he was dropping to the ground again.</p><p>Sam winced, creeping forward and shutting off the water. “Is it alright if I help you? I know you don’t really want to be touched…”</p><p>Castiel didn’t respond, panting heavily, skin flushed. From the heat or the exertion or an infection-induced fever, Sam didn’t know.</p><p>Sam creeped closer and crouched down, placing a cautious hand on Castiel’s upper arm and trying to avoid the large, black wing behind them. “Castiel…?”</p><p>Castiel didn’t confirm that the touch was okay, but he didn’t say no, and given how difficult it was to get him to answer… Sam had to take the lack of whimpering and flinching as a positive answer.</p><p>“Okay, it’s alright. Let me…” Sam almost helped Castiel up, but then he stopped. “Wait, I need a place to put you… hold on.” He wet his lips and looked through the open door at the sidewalk. <em>That’s too rough, and the grass is soft, but it’ll just get him dirty again. Not that dirty, I guess… but with all his open wounds… I should put a towel down.</em></p><p>“Just wait here a second.” Sam got to his feet and froze with one foot out of the shower. “Dad?”</p><p>John looked up from where he was spreading a twin-sized blanket on the grass, the large first aid kit from the house sitting at his feet. “Dean said the angel was worse than we thought.”</p><p>Sam looked over his shoulder at Castiel, who was staring blankly ahead, and then he looked back out at John. “Can you help him without—”</p><p>“Sam.” John used a tone that very clearly said it was unwise for Sam to finish his question.</p><p>Normally, Sam would have balked at the idea he could be so easily controlled, but he couldn’t afford to start a fight in front of Castiel. So, Sam grabbed a towel and returned to Castiel’s side, focused on helping him.</p><p>“If I carry you, will you be able to hold onto my neck?”</p><p>Castiel looked up at Sam and then started staring ahead again, his expression fighting to maintain its fearful features.</p><p><em>He’s so tired. </em>Sam put one of Castiel’s arms around his own shoulders, and then he wrapped the towel around Castiel’s hips and slowly started to stand. “Come on, Castiel. Come on, you can do it. Get your feet beneath you.”</p><p>Castiel didn’t seem to realize he was supposed to do anything at first, but then he managed to get his feet on the ground, one hand grappling haphazardly with Sam’s shirt.</p><p>“Good job, buddy. We’re trying to get to the blanket by my dad. He’s not gonna hurt you, don’t worry.” And if John tried, Sam wouldn’t let him. “Almost there.”</p><p>Castiel didn’t really seem to understand what was being said, and by the time they got to the blanket, he collapsed so completely Sam thought he might have passed out. Thankfully, Castiel landed on his left side, keeping his wings relatively out of the way, so they didn’t need to move him again.</p><p>“What’s the worst?” John asked, crouched by the first aid kit.</p><p>Sam knelt on the opposite side of Castiel, hovering almost protectively. “Uh, there’s this cut in his abdomen…” he pointed it out, “…and his knees are skinned almost completely off.”</p><p>John cursed under his breath and surveyed the injuries. “Well, it’s not gonna be pleasant. Is he out?”</p><p>Sam shook his head. “No, but he’s close.”</p><p>John pulled out a stitch kit and tossed it to Sam, expecting him to know what to do with it.</p><p>Sam did, of course. He had done enough medical jobs with his dad to know what he was supposed to cover when John was at the operating table. Sam opened the kit and got to work, watching John to see what he would approach first.</p><p>John went for the knees, and Sam let out a subtle sigh of relief. Those wouldn’t be too painful or invasive, and Sam hadn’t been entirely sure how to bandage them, anyways.</p><p>Castiel wasn’t nearly as relieved, and despite his incoherence, he still moaned and twitched away from the hands treating him. His wings spasmed occasionally, and they eventually drew Sam’s attention to an open sore on the underside of the right wing, right where it met Castiel’s back; most likely, the wing had gone too long in a cramped space with no cleaning.</p><p>Eventually, though, it came down to the infected cut.</p><p>“Dad, maybe I should—”</p><p>“You’ve never dealt with anything this big in an area that wasn’t a limb.” John didn’t even look up from the kit as he spoke, putting on a pair of gloves before, to Sam’s surprise, pulling out a syringe and a small bottle. “You just keep him calm. This’ll help, but it won’t knock him out.”</p><p>“I didn’t even know we <em>had </em>numbing agents…”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I try not to advertise. We don’t have any to spare.”</p><p>Sam didn’t say anything to that, staying in position behind Castiel and wondering what he could do to offer comfort. If it were anyone else, he would hold their hand or rub their back, but there was a good chance that wouldn’t help Castiel.</p><p>
  <em>He’s already going to have hands on him that he doesn’t want. </em>
</p><p>Sam watched John flick the syringe to ensure there were no air bubbles, followed by the process of injecting the drug into various points around the site of infection.</p><p>Castiel inhaled sharply each time, but he didn’t let out any pained noises. Apparently, the needle itself wasn’t causing any great deal of pain. Hopefully, the numbing agent would be strong enough to help, because Sam knew the actual procedure wouldn’t be so merciful.</p><p>“I might need your hands,” John said, unpackaging a scalpel.</p><p>Sam heard the silent order—‘get gloves and keep them near you’—and obeyed, watching in a mix of morbid fascination and dread as John started pressing the tip of the blade around various points on Castiel’s abdomen.</p><p>“You feel that, angel?”</p><p>Castiel offered a jerky nod and then shook his head.</p><p>“Sort of, then.” John grabbed another pack of gauze and tore it open, his eyes wandering over the injury with a kind of calculative, level-headedness that made Sam feel a little more at ease. After a moment of consideration, John grabbed some disinfectant and started cleaning the area he would be cutting.</p><p>Sam doublechecked to make sure he had gloves nearby, which he did, and then he moved to the side a bit so he could look down at what his dad was doing without blocking the much-needed light.</p><p>“You still feel that?”</p><p>Castiel nodded slightly.</p><p>“Castiel,” Sam started softly. “Do you feel pain or pressure?”</p><p>Castiel turned tired, frightened eyes to Sam, looking on in helpless confusion as if to say, ‘You won’t make me talk, will you? Please, don’t.’</p><p>“Sorry.” Sam flashed a quick smile. “Do you feel pain?”</p><p>Castiel shook his head slightly.</p><p>John pursed his lips and nodded. “Good enough for me.”</p><p>Sam watched as John carefully approached the laceration. It had once been a long cut—roughly five inches—but most of it had scarred, leaving about two inches scabbed and oozing. John seemed to debate where on the cut to go first, but he ultimately started at the bottom, dragging the scalpel along the length of the scab. Pus immediately started pouring from the wound, painting Castiel’s front, and John grabbed the gauze.</p><p>Sam felt helpless, watching his dad apply pressure to force more of the infection out of the wound, and that feeling only increased when Castiel started to whimper. Sam struggled with himself for a moment, and then he went against his better judgement and reached out, grabbing Castiel’s hand and giving it a squeeze.</p><p>“Easy, there, buddy. You’re doing good, just don’t move.”</p><p>Castiel screwed his eyes shut and panted hard, prompting Sam to let out the breath he had, apparently, been holding.</p><p>John muttered a few choice words under his breath. “There’s a lot in here.”</p><p>Sam wet his lips, looking down at the mess of pus and blood for a brief second before he turned his head. “Is he gonna be okay?”</p><p>John nodded his head, never once taking his eyes off of what he was doing. “Hopefully.” He applied more pressure, and Castiel let out a cry. John shook his head. “Can’t help that part. It’s gonna be tender inside.”</p><p>Sam gave Castiel’s hand another squeeze, and Castiel whined, breathing harder and pressing his head into the ground. Castiel flexed the hand Sam was holding for a moment, and then he tightened his hold, almost as if experimenting with the contact.</p><p>“Easy, Castiel. Just stay still, alright? Shout if you have to, but stay still.”</p><p>Castiel sucked down air and choked out another whine, sweat forming on his brow.</p><p>“I know it hurts now, but it’s going to feel <em>so</em> much better once the infection is out.”</p><p>Castiel only whined again, squeezing Sam’s hand in return.</p><p>“How much longer, Dad?” Sam asked softly.</p><p>“However long it takes,” John replied with a sigh, sounding irritated.</p><p>Sam glared. “General estimate?”</p><p>“I don’t <em>know, </em>Sam.” John slipped a gloved finger into the wound and felt around. “This isn’t a leg; I can’t just shove forceps in there and dig around until I get all the pus out.” He huffed a little, and to his credit, his focus was still entirely on the makeshift surgery.</p><p>“I wasn’t questioning you,” Sam snapped. “I just wanted to know how long you thought it would take.”</p><p>John snorted. “Well, you say it like I’m dragging this out on purpose.”</p><p>Sam stopped at that. “You really think I would say something like that?”</p><p>John heaved a sigh, as if the conversation had happened a million times before when it most definitely had not. “You’re a lot mouthier than your brother, so yes.”</p><p>“You think I <em>think </em>that about you?” Sam was torn between hurt and guilty. “Dad… I think you can be too rough sometimes, and… yeah, I figure you’re not gonna have the best bedside manner, but…” He shook his head, face contorted with emotions he couldn’t quite define. “I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would torture for fun, monster or not. I’ve never thought that about you.”</p><p>John didn’t say anything, shedding his gloves before throwing on a fresh pair.</p><p>Sam fell silent, squeezing Castiel’s hand to reassure him. <em>You’re still safe. Dad’s not gonna hurt you. He’s not like that.</em></p><p>Because John really wasn’t like that. He wasn’t the kind to lash out, especially not over something unrelated. Honestly, that was one of the worst parts about him. If Sam did something to anger or disappoint John, Sam never really knew how <em>much </em>he had angered or disappointed John. John was the strong and silent type, only stating things he felt need to be clarified, and John happened to think most things were obvious.</p><p>Was John angry at Sam? Irritated? Furious? Upset? Constipated? Was he mildly disappointed? Ashamed? Disgusted? Thinking about dinner? Itchy?</p><p>Who knew? Not Sam, that’s for sure. Not anybody, except John himself, and getting John to realize that <em>no, </em>the answer was <em>not </em>obvious, was like pulling teeth.</p><p>Castiel let out a loud moan that tapered off into a whimper, and when Sam looked down, he saw tears streaming down the angel’s cheeks. Castiel clutched Sam’s hand, and his leg started to jerk slightly, like he wanted to kick but didn’t know where to aim.</p><p>Sam quickly closeted his train of thought and tried to keep Castiel calm. “Hey, it’s alright.” He glanced down at the injury and saw it was mostly blood and clear fluid coming out, and in a much smaller volume than before. “Dad, is it done?”</p><p>John pressed his lips together and shook his head, once again inserting his finger into the wound and feeling around. “I don’t know. Based on the swelling…” He trailed off, pressing on Castiel’s abdomen from the outside while digging with his other finger.</p><p>Castiel whimpered again, a sound which escalated into a sharp cry before tapering away.</p><p>“You’re doing really good,” Sam soothed. “Just hang in there, Castiel. Just take deep breaths, alright?”</p><p>John started pulling his finger out, and when he did, he brought out a strip of infected… <em>something, </em>and whatever it was had apparently been serving as a plug. As soon as John pulled the strip out, another wave of pus gushed from the wound.</p><p>Castiel moaned at first, but then he gasped, eyes snapping open. He took another deep breath and made a little humming noise, almost sounding pleased.</p><p>John chuckled to himself. “Yeah, I bet that feels a lot better, getting rid of all that pressure.”</p><p>Castiel took another breath, and while he was still clearly in pain, he was also clearly able to breathe a little easier.</p><p>Sam took a break from watching his dad work and paid attention to Castiel, reaching down and pulling the clingy strands of wet hair away from Castiel’s face. Castiel’s cheeks were red and stained with tears, and his nose was somewhat colored, too. His eyes flickered down to watch John from time to time, but for the most part, they stayed shut, unable to stay open for more than a few seconds at a time.</p><p>“It’s almost over,” Sam encouraged after a series of pained cries. John had finished draining and cleaning the wound, and he had now moved on to the final step. “I know, buddy. This part really sucks.” Packing the wound was unavoidably painful unless the patient was unconscious, even in well-equipped hospitals, which the Winchester backyard was not. “You’re doing great.”</p><p>“One more big push,” John muttered dryly.</p><p>Sam laughed a little, hoping things were alright between them.</p><p>John’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but then he was all business.</p><p>Sam was alright with that. He put his attention on Castiel and reached out to comb the angel’s hair back again. “It’s okay. Just stay still a little while longer. Then we’ll get your wings cleaned.”</p><p>John glanced up for the first time since the procedure began. “That’s a bad idea. You might get the bandages wet.” He nodded toward Sam. “Sunset’s in an hour and a half anyway.”</p><p>Sam looked over his shoulder and saw John was right. <em>Wet wings and a dropping temperature aren’t a good combination. I guess we need to get them dry as soon as possible. </em>He sighed softly. “Tomorrow, then.”</p><p>Castiel kept breathing hard, but he didn’t make any noise of pain or protest, so Sam considered that to be an okay sign.</p><p>John taped down the bandage that covered the incision and the packing sticking out of it, and then he sat back on his heels and wiped his brow. “Well, that’s one thing taken care of. You got him from here?”</p><p>Sam nodded with a tight smile. “Yeah, I got him.” He smiled a little wider. “Thanks, Dad.”</p><p>“Mm-hmm.” John put the unused supplies back in the kit and picked it up. “Just leave the blanket and trash out. Dean or I will get it later.”</p><p>Sam smiled briefly. “Thanks,” he repeated.</p><p>John gave a nod and walked away, leaving Sam to gather the clothes Dean had brought out earlier. Sam could hardly believe it when he saw the large hole in the back of the Led Zeppelin tee, and he figured it must have been an old one.</p><p>Getting Castiel in the sweatpants was fairly easy, but the shirt was a little more difficult. Once Sam dried Castiel’s wings, he had to wrestle them through a hole that was smaller than they were. It took some doing, but Sam got them through, and then Castiel just had to push his arms up into the sleeves and let Sam pull it down.</p><p>“Come here, buddy.” Sam wrapped one arm around Castiel’s back below his wings, and the other arm wrapped around Castiel’s knees. He grunted as he hoisted Castiel from the ground with no small amount of effort, and he immediately started making his way toward the garage.</p><p>Castiel couldn’t even lift his head from Sam’s shoulder, but he reached out numbly as they approached the door, trying to be helpful.</p><p>“Thanks, Castiel.”</p><p>Castiel just let his arm drop, wings dragging on the ground, eyes fluttering heavily.</p><p>Sam stopped when he saw a mattress with a simple, black, fitted sheet laying by the corner closest to the door that led into the house. However, Castiel was heavy, so Sam didn’t stand there with a fond smile on his face for very long.</p><p>“Easy… easy…” Sam lowered Castiel to the mattress and grabbed the folded blanket nearby. “Are your wings okay under you?”</p><p>Castiel nodded tiredly, his right wing resting against the wall while the left wing splayed out on the garage floor.</p><p>Sam smiled softly and covered Castiel with the blanket, tucking him in. “It’s summer, so this should be plenty.” He pressed his lips together. “We don’t have a lot of extra pillows lying around, but I’ll dig around tomorrow. We might have some in the attic, and if not, I’ll buy you one or make you one or…” He let out a soft sigh and smiled again. “Try to get some rest, okay?”</p><p>Castiel stopped fighting to keep his eyes open and sank into the mattress with a quiet sigh.</p><p>Sam’s smile faded, a twisted pain slipping onto his face, and it was with a heavy heart that he walked inside and locked the door behind him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam didn’t know what he expected to find when he checked on Castiel after a four in the morning bathroom run, but he had been hoping ‘sleeping angel’ would be somewhere in the picture. Sadly, that was not the case.</p><p>“Oh, Castiel.”</p><p>Castiel’s head snapped up, and he stared at Sam in silent horror, his blue eyes wide and tearful and dilated with panic. His bloody fingers were curled mid-scratch, both hands hovering over his collarbone, the skin red and swollen under his touch.</p><p>“Let me take a look.” Sam stepped into the garage and knelt down beside the mattress Castiel was sitting on.</p><p>Castiel immediately leaned into the wall, his wings curling protectively around his body. He shook his head and shifted his hands so they were clutching his own feathers.</p><p>“Castiel, it’s okay.” Sam held out a placating hand and very gently brushed his fingers against Castiel’s wing. “It’s okay. I just want to take a look at the damage.”</p><p>Castiel shuddered, a soft whine rising in his throat, and for a moment, it looked like he was going to refuse again. But then he looked Sam up and down, took a deep breath, and slowly let go of his feathers. He turned on the mattress until he was facing Sam, and then he tucked his wings behind himself and pulled down his shirt collar, revealing the self-inflicted scratch marks.</p><p>Sam offered a small smile and tried to look at the marks from where he was. He couldn’t see much in the dim light, but he noticed there was more blood than there would have been from just scratching. If Sam had to guess—and given Castiel’s silence, he did—he would say Castiel had scratched himself open before and was now scratching the scabs off.</p><p>“Let me go get the first aid kit. If we put some band-aids on those marks, you might not scratch them open again. Then they might actually heal up.”</p><p>With that, Sam got up and walked back into the house. He went through the kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom, where he retrieved the first aid kit and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Then he walked back out to the garage.</p><p>“Here.” Sam knelt down by the mattress again and opened the kit, pulling out a packet of gauze. “This is going to sting, but it’s good for you.” He tore open a packet and then soaked the gauze in peroxide. “It’ll clean the wounds. Okay?”</p><p>Castiel watched Sam carefully, but he granted permission with a faint nod.</p><p>Sam took the gauze and gingerly dabbed it on the scratch marks over Castiel’s collarbone. He used his other hand to pull the shirt out of the way, and a not-so-easy silence settled over the room.</p><p><em>I wonder if he was dreaming about the rape. </em>Sam didn’t want to ask that question for obvious reasons, but he was inclined to think Castiel was scratching at some of the bite marks and hickies that bedecked his body. If that was the case, then Sam wanted to distract Castiel as soon as possible.</p><p>“So…” Sam cleared his throat a bit awkwardly, still dabbing at the wounds. “You told me your name. Can you speak?”</p><p>Castiel hesitated and then shook his head, blue eyes peering up at Sam with curiosity beneath the ever-present fear.</p><p>Sam nodded slightly. “So, you can say your name, but you can’t speak?”</p><p>Castiel nodded, seeming a little more sure of himself. He definitely wasn’t confused about what Sam was asking.</p><p><em>That doesn’t make any sense. </em>But Sam chose not to question it for the time being. Castiel was barely comfortable giving answers; Sam had no way of knowing how Castiel would respond to being contradicted or questioned.</p><p>“It’s okay if you can’t speak.” Sam pulled the gauze away and set it to the side, looking over Castiel’s body in the dim light. “Are there any more places where you scratched yourself open?”</p><p>Castiel didn’t do anything at first, his eyes locked on Sam’s. He took a breath, hesitated, and then slowly extended his left arm, revealing two bleeding gouges on the inside.</p><p>Sam nodded and grabbed a new packet of gauze, ripping it open and pouring the hydrogen peroxide over it. He took Castiel’s arm in one hand and gently wiped with his other hand.</p><p>If Castiel felt any pain from the peroxide or the contact Sam made, he didn’t show it. He just stared, watching Sam’s hands intently, every little movement examined in depth.</p><p>“We don’t have to talk about what was bothering you, but…” Sam set the bloody gauze aside and picked up a new packet, tearing it open and pressing the dry gauze to the sluggishly bleeding wound. “Does scratching help?”</p><p>Castiel blinked once, his jaw clamped shut, and he continued to stare. He watched Sam absorb the blood and weeping fluid from the scratches, and then he watched Sam grab the tube of Neosporin.</p><p>“It’s okay. You don’t have to answer.” Sam twisted the cap off the tube and squirted some of the ointment onto the scratches. “I was just wondering.” He grabbed a few large band-aids from the kit and opened them up one by one, placing three along the length of the gashes. “There we go.”</p><p>Castiel looked at the band-aids on his arm, and for the first time since John brought him to the compound, the primary emotion on his face wasn’t fear. He was looking at them with confusion and curiosity, his expression so utterly innocent it was hard to imagine him as any kind of threat.</p><p>“Never seen a band-aid before?” Sam asked, a light smile pulling on the corner of his mouth.</p><p>Castiel blinked a few times and slowly shook his head, reaching out to touch them. He ran his fingers over the new addition to his body, bewildered, and then he looked at Sam. He pointed to his collarbone, his expression dumbfounded.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m putting some band-aids up there, too.” Sam grabbed the Neosporin and put some on Castiel’s collarbone. He grabbed some more band-aids from the kit and opened them up, carefully placing the first one on Castiel’s skin.</p><p>Castiel blinked again, and some of his fear started returning, but he remained fascinated with the little sticky objects being placed on him. He waited until Sam had put two more on his collarbone, and then he ran his fingers over all three, his face twisting up with confusion.</p><p>“So, I know you didn’t respond, and I know I said that was okay, but…” Sam trailed for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, if scratching makes you feel better, then I’m glad there’s something that helps, but… you really can’t do this anymore. You’re hurting yourself, and it isn’t healthy.”</p><p>Castiel didn’t say anything, but he ducked his head as if he had been scolded. His eyes flickered between his lap and Sam’s face, his jaw clenched tightly as he struggled with some emotion Sam wasn’t privy to.</p><p>“I’m not mad,” Sam assured, trying to calm the waters. He didn’t even know if it was a good idea to bring up the scratching in general, but he felt like he couldn’t say nothing. “It’s just… really not good for you.”</p><p>Castiel looked at Sam with something like hope in his eyes.</p><p>Sam decided the best thing to do was to keep moving forward. “Did you scratch yourself anywhere else?”</p><p>Castiel’s eyes widened—if that was even possible—and he immediately started breathing harder. He swallowed thickly and his wings started to curl around him.</p><p>“Castiel.” Sam held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I just want to help. Please.”</p><p>Castiel sat and stared at Sam, wings half-curled, breathing shallow.</p><p>“I just want to help,” Sam repeated earnestly.</p><p>Castiel looked down at himself and then looked right back at Sam, his eyes brimming with fear. He slowly stood up, his blanket falling to the mattress in a heap. He stood there for a moment, still staring at Sam, and then he hesitantly slipped his thumbs into his waistband and dropped his pants.</p><p>Sam winced sympathetically at the scratches all over Castiel’s thighs, the marks half hidden by the borrowed boxers. “Do you want to do it yourself?”</p><p>Castiel blinked a few times and nodded his head enthusiastically. He held out his hands and made a grabbing motion, looking at Sam expectantly.</p><p>Sam smiled and grabbed a packet of gauze, quickly tearing it open and pouring hydrogen peroxide on it. He immediately handed the wet gauze over to Castiel and sat back to see what Castiel would do.</p><p>Castiel spent a moment staring at Sam, and he seemed hesitant to look anywhere else, but he eventually directed his gaze downward. He began wiping the scratch marks, and thankfully the damage to his legs didn’t seem as bad as the damage to his arm and collarbone. Though, despite being less severe, the scratch marks were more widespread, covering Castiel’s entire thighs.</p><p>“Do you want to put some band-aids on those, too?” Sam didn’t really think the marks on Castiel’s legs needed band-aids, but Castiel seemed so intrigued by the little sticky bandages. Besides, band-aids were cheap; it was no big deal to put on some unnecessary ones.</p><p>Castiel finished cleaning the scratch marks and put the dirty gauze on Sam’s trash pile. He wet his lips and looked at the first aid kit for a moment before looking at Sam and blinking twice. He stared and waited patiently, a hopeful look on his face.</p><p>Sam opened up a band-aid and peeled the backing off, handing it over to Castiel with a smile. “Just stick it wherever you think it should go.”</p><p>Castiel tentatively reached out and took the band-aid, giving it a long look before lowering it to one of the many scratch marks on his legs. He placed the bandage, and for a fraction of a second, his lips turned up into a smile.</p><p>Sam smiled, too, his own expression lasting longer than Castiel’s had. He opened another band-aid and peeled off the back again, handing it over and watching as Castiel carefully placed it over another scratch mark.</p><p>Castiel looked at Sam and held up one finger.</p><p>“Just one more?” Sam picked up another band-aid and prepared it for Castiel.</p><p>Castiel nodded his head a few times and took the offered bandage, sticking it on his leg before quickly leaning down and pulling his pants back up.</p><p>Sam smiled kindly and twisted the lid onto the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “Does that feel a bit better?”</p><p>Castiel nodded his head, but it looked like his fear was returning. His wings started to come forward and wrap around him, and his hands grabbed onto the tattered feathers nervously.</p><p>“Take a deep breath, Castiel.” Sam stayed on the floor, trying to keep himself small and unthreatening. “Just take a deep breath. You’re okay. You’re safe.”</p><p>Castiel wet his lips and, after a second of hesitation, took a deep breath like Sam said. He let it out slowly, and then he took another deep breath, his wings slowly slipping into a relaxed position behind him.</p><p>“There we go.” Sam smiled kindly, and then he gestured to the garbage they had accumulated. “Do you mind if I get up to throw this stuff away?”</p><p>Castiel watched Sam closely, but he slowly shook his head.</p><p>Sam gathered the garbage in one hand and then grabbed the bottle of peroxide, tucking it under his arm. He grabbed the first aid kit and then slowly got to his feet, moving toward the door that led into the house.</p><p>“Let me take care of this stuff, and then you can come in and wash your hands, okay?”</p><p>Castiel looked down at his hands in surprise, as if he hadn’t realized his hands had blood on them, and then he looked back at Sam and nodded.</p><p>Sam struggled to open the door with his hands full, but he managed, and then he threw the garbage in the kitchen trash can. He took the first aid supplies back to the bathroom, and then he returned to the garage to get Castiel.</p><p>“Come on. Once you wash your hands you can go back to sleep.”</p><p>Castiel took a few cautious steps, approaching the house with trepidation on his face. He glanced up at the doorway as he passed through it, and then he looked around at the kitchen.</p><p>It was a simple layout and, thankfully, it looked like it was part of a normal house. None of their weapons were laying on the table in the nearby dining room, as their weapons were prone to do. There was some lore stacked on the bar that separated the dining room and kitchen, but there was nothing really threatening about lore. There were some dirty dishes in the sink, a dish towel hanging from the oven handle, and some empty beer bottles on the counter against the wall. It was normal. It was safe.</p><p>Sam walked over to the sink and turned on the hot water. He figured it would be easier to just show Castiel how to wash his hands instead of explaining it, so he squirted some soap onto his hands and got to business.</p><p>Castiel watched closely, and when Sam moved his hands out of the way and began drying them, Castiel approached the sink. He squirted some soap into his hands and started rubbing them together, looking to Sam for confirmation.</p><p>Sam nodded his head with an encouraging smile. “You got it, buddy.”</p><p>Castiel nodded and put his attention on what he was doing, leaving Sam to watch him in silence.</p><p><em>His wings look a little rough. </em>There were a few patches where Sam could see skin, and growing out of that skin were several shafts for feathers but no actual feathery parts. It looked almost painful, and Sam had no idea if that’s what they were supposed to look like or not. <em>I’ll do some research tomorrow before we clean them.</em></p><p>Castiel turned to Sam and held out his dripping wet hands, waiting for Sam to hand him a towel, which Sam did. Castiel dried his hands and then carefully hung the towel from the oven door handle where it belonged.</p><p>“Come on,” Sam urged, gesturing to the garage. “Bedtime.”</p><p>Castiel walked out to the garage without complaint, though he did look over his shoulder at Sam repeatedly. He settled down on the mattress and pulled his blanket up to his neck, looking up at Sam with wide eyes.</p><p>Sam smiled. “I know your wings got rinsed off in the shower, but we’ll clean them good with soap tomorrow, okay?”</p><p>Castiel nodded twice, still staring at Sam.</p><p>Sam flicked the light off, submerging the room in darkness. “Goodnight, Castiel.”</p><p>Castiel made a humming noise, and then Sam closed the garage door.</p><p><em>I can’t believe Dad bought an angel. </em>Sam couldn’t help but laugh a little. <em>My life is so ridiculous. </em>As if being a monster hunter wasn’t bad enough, now he was a monster hunter with a traumatized pet angel.</p><p><em>No, </em>he reminded himself. <em>He’s not a pet, he’s a person. He’s just a very traumatized, mute, half-creature person. </em>Sam blew his bangs out of his eyes and started to walk back to his bedroom, making sure all the lights were off. <em>But, at least for the time being, he’s my person. I might as well get used to it.</em></p><p>Sam crawled into bed and felt a little twinge in his chest over the fact that Castiel was sleeping on a mattress in a garage. <em>He should at least be on the couch. </em>But he knew John wasn’t going to budge on that rule, and starting a fight wouldn’t do anybody any good. So, Sam rolled over and tried to go to sleep.</p><p>
  <em>I might start a fight with Dad anyway, just to make a point.</em>
</p><p>And that was his last thought before he tumbled down into unconsciousness.</p><hr/><p>“How are we gonna do this without getting the bandages wet?”</p><p>Dean looked between Jo and the angel crouched in the backyard, putting his hands on his hips. “Well, it doesn’t matter if we get the bandages wet because they need to be changed anyway.” He glanced at Sam and then looked at the angel, their first obstacle painfully obvious. “I don’t suppose a rape victim is gonna feel like stripping for three total strangers, is he?”</p><p>Sam gave Dean a withering glare, which Dean readily ignored. “No, Dean, he’s not going to want to strip for us.”</p><p>Dean let out a sigh and looked at Castiel, painfully aware that he lacked Sam’s patience. “Well, birdbrain, are you gonna cooperate or not?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I know you can understand us, so what’s it gonna be? You gonna let your wings stay like they are now, or are you gonna work with us?”</p><p>Castiel looked at Dean with nothing short of terror in his eyes. He shook his head and backed away, black feathers puffed up.</p><p>“You’re really gonna fight us on this?” Dean questioned, a tone of disbelief entering his voice.</p><p>Castiel just kept staring at Dean, his gaze occasionally flickering to Jo or Sam but always going back to Dean. Dean was the biggest threat, and Dean got the feeling as long as he was around, things were going to be difficult.</p><p>Sam must have realized the same thing, because the next words out of his mouth were, “Maybe you should go inside, Dean. Jo and I can do this.”</p><p>“He’s got to get used to me eventually, Sammy.” Dean took a step toward Castiel, holding up his hands when Castiel jumped away. “Easy, Cas. Easy. I’m not gonna hurt you.”</p><p>Castiel shrank in on himself, crouched low to the ground and shaking. He drew his wings in tight, the feathers still ruffled, and his fingers curled through the grass.</p><p>“Dean—”</p><p>“Just let me try, Sam.” Dean didn’t take his eyes off Castiel, and even though he felt some frustration about the situation, he tried to keep it off his face. “Easy, Cas.” He took another step, reaching out a hand to tousle Castiel’s hair. “Just keep breathing. I’m not gonna hurt you.”</p><p>Castiel backed away, his eyes wide with fear. He started to breathe a little harder, and it was like he couldn’t see Sam and Jo anymore. All he could see was Dean, and he was afraid.</p><p>“Cas,” Dean spoke as seriously as he could, crouching down with his hand still outstretched. “I’m just gonna ruffle your hair. Okay? It’s not a big deal. It’s all okay.”</p><p>Castiel backed up until he hit the fence that went around the Winchester property. He whimpered quietly, lowering himself until his chin was in the grass.</p><p>“Dean, stop.”</p><p>Dean kept his eyes on Castiel. “Just give me a second, Sam. Let me try.” He inched a little closer to Castiel and slowly dropped his hand into Castiel’s messy, dark brown locks. “See?”</p><p>Castiel screwed his eyes shut tight, but he couldn’t move any further away.</p><p>Dean rubbed Castiel’s head a little bit, and then he stood up, backing away from the angel and holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “That’s all, see? I’m back over here now.”</p><p>Castiel slowly opened his eyes, scanning Dean first and then looking at Jo and Sam. He quickly looked back at Dean, fear written plainly on his face. He might have processed that Dean did him no harm, but he was a far cry from trusting anything.</p><p>“Castiel,” Sam started softly, drawing the angel’s attention over to him. “We really just want to help you wash your wings. You can keep your boxers on.”</p><p>Castiel stared at Sam for a long moment, and then he slowly stood up. He pulled his arms into his shirt and then pulled it up and over his head, the fabric still twisted around his wings. He looked at Sam for another long moment, then at Jo, and then at Dean.</p><p>“It’s okay, Castiel,” Sam assured. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”</p><p>Jo gave two thumbs up and a smile. “Dean and I are just here to help Sam get you clean, Castiel. It’s all good.”</p><p>Castiel slipped his fingers into his waistband and pulled his sweatpants down, stepping out of them and tossing them to the side. He curled his wings around himself and grabbed at the feathers, watching the assembled hunters with wide, frightened eyes.</p><p>“Thanks, Castiel.” Sam took a few careful steps and slowly put his hands on the shirt still wrapped around Castiel’s wings. He worked with Castiel to get the shirt off the wings, and then he tossed it onto the sweatpants, turning to Jo and Dean. “Okay, guys. Let’s get these wings cleaned.”</p><p>Dean pointed to the shower. “First things first. You gotta get your wings wet, Cas.”</p><p>Castiel looked at the shower stall, and then back at the hunters. He was still visibly afraid, but he had been in the shower before. Dean was hoping that familiarity would take some of the fear away.</p><p>After all, it wasn’t like Dean had anything <em>against </em>Castiel. Dean just wasn’t very good at using kid gloves, and he wasn’t as sympathetic toward monsters as Sam was. Still, it bothered him how afraid Castiel was, and he didn’t want to cause the angel any more suffering.</p><p>“Come on, Castiel.” Sam stepped into the stall and turned on the water before walking back out. “You can do it yourself, okay? We’ll wait out here.”</p><p>Castiel looked at Sam for a few moments, and then he looked at Dean again. He glanced at Jo, then looked back at Dean, and then looked back at Sam.</p><p><em>Oh, for Pete’s sake. </em>Dean folded his arms over his chest, but he did his best not to show any kind of irritation on his face. <em>Just get in the freaking shower.</em></p><p>As if hearing the unspoken demand, Castiel crept over to the shower stall and cautiously walked inside, pulling the door shut behind him.</p><p>Jo shook her head and looked at Dean. “I still can’t believe your dad bought an angel.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Did he say why he did it?”</p><p>Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Something about keeping Ray from cheating him. I know he got some free med kits out of the deal, but that’s about it.”</p><p>“Huh.” Jo folded her arms over her chest. “Well, at least angel parts are useful. I know what I’ll be doing next time I’m going after a witch.”</p><p>Dean snorted. “Yeah, tell me about it.”</p><p>“Hey.” Sam glared at both of them from where he stood outside the shower stall. “He can hear everything you’re saying. You guys wanna tone it down?”</p><p>Dean barely managed not to roll his eyes. “Come on, Sam. Are you really gonna fight with Dad every time he tries to pluck a feather or draw some blood?”</p><p>“Castiel is a person, Dean,” was Sam’s snapped reply. “He shouldn’t be used as a tool, especially not after what he’s been through.”</p><p>“But he <em>is </em>a tool, Sam. That’s literally his purpose.” Dean spread his hands, inviting an argument. “Because if that’s not his purpose, then his purpose is doing what other angels do, in which case we’re gonna kill him before he hurts someone.”</p><p>Sam took a few steps toward Dean, closing the distance between them and drawing himself up to his full height. “You are <em>not </em>killing him, and neither is Dad.” He shook his head. “If I’m the only one in this compound who cares about him, so be it, but you’re not killing him.”</p><p>Dean’s face screwed up. “You <em>care </em>about him? What are you, dating?” He gestured toward the shower. “He’s a monster, Sam! It’s your <em>job </em>to keep him from hurting people, and if—”</p><p>“He’s not a monster, and he’s not going to hurt anyone!” Sam spread his arms in disbelief. “He’s <em>scared, </em>Dean. He’s terrified, and I know you can see that, so don’t pretend we’re working some kind of job here. We’re helping a trauma victim.”</p><p>Dean opened his mouth to argue, but he found he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say. His jaw snapped shut, and he settled for crossing his arms over his chest and glaring angrily.</p><p>Sam didn’t say anything, either, apparently ready to let the argument die, and he turned back toward the shower.</p><p>Jo rocked on her heels and cleared her throat a bit awkwardly. “Anyways…”</p><p>Dean glanced over at her. “Sorry, Jo.” He looked back at Sam, but he still didn’t have anything to say, so he kept his mouth shut.</p><p>Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. He had something to say, he just wasn’t sure how to say it. He didn’t know how to turn off his hunter brain, and even though the blatant fear on Castiel’s face made his stomach churn, he didn’t know how to stop seeing a potential threat. He saw those huge wings and thought of the time Bobby was almost skewered through the heart by an angel blade. He saw the unearthly shade of blue in Castiel’s eyes and thought of the time an angel had put him into a three-day coma.</p><p>Dean saw Sam treating Castiel like a frightened victim, and all he could see were the ways things could go wrong. But how to tell Sam that? Dean had no clue. He didn’t have the words, he just had the feelings, the innate sense of <em>wrong </em>and <em>danger.</em></p><p>“Are they wet?”</p><p>Dean pulled himself from his thoughts and realized the shower had been shut off. He looked at Castiel, who had hesitantly poked his head out of the shower stall, and he saw that fear again.</p><p>Castiel nodded twice in response to Sam’s question, and then he slowly moved out from behind the shower door. He looked at the three hunters in turn, and he eventually shifted his gaze to Sam with a noise of confusion.</p><p>Sam gestured to the grassy yard. “It’ll be helpful if you sit so we can reach the top of your wings.” He started walking back toward Jo and Dean. “Can you come over here and sit down?”</p><p>Castiel turned his eyes to Dean then, distrust evident on his face. His eyes were wide and zeroed in on Dean’s crossed arms, his wings puffing up slightly.</p><p>Dean uncrossed his arms and leaned down, picking up the bottle of Dawn dish soap from the sidewalk. “It’s all good, Cas.” He extended the bottle so Castiel could see it. “We’re just gonna squirt this on your wings and rub it in good. It’ll get your feathers nice and clean.”</p><p>Castiel wet his lips and cautiously walked closer to the group, crouching down in the grass. He looked between the three of them, squinting his eyes as he scrutinized them, and after a few moments he shifted into a sitting position and spread his wings out.</p><p>It wasn’t permission to touch, but it was as close as the mute angel could get, so Dean walked over to Castiel and turned the Dawn bottle upside down. He squirted a copious amount over the surface of Castiel’s right wing, the soap nearly invisible against the black feathers.</p><p>“Here, Sam.” Dean held the bottle out for his brother to take, and then he started combing his fingers through the feathers, working up a good lather.</p><p>Sam applied soap to Castiel’s left wing, and he and Jo got to work cleaning. Dean kept to his designated wing and found himself mildly fascinated by the slimy feathers he was running his hands through. He was a bit concerned about the amount of dirt showing up in the lather, but he didn’t let the worry take root. He shoved it off and focused on his task, scratching and rubbing and combing until he was satisfied enough to move on to the next section of feathers.</p><p>They worked in silence for about ten minutes, and then Dean groaned and pulled his hands off Castiel’s wing. “This blows. We need some music.”</p><p>Sam seemed a bit hesitant. “Uh… I don’t know how he’ll respond to music… especially if it’s loud.”</p><p>“He’ll love it,” Dean assured, walking toward the shower.</p><p>Dean turned the shower on and washed the soap and dirt from his hands before turning it off and making his way to the garage door. He walked through the garage and kitchen, went back the hall to his room, grabbed his boombox, and walked back out.</p><p>Dean walked up to the outdoor outlet, lifted the cover, and plugged in his boombox. He turned it on and turned it up, walking back over to Castiel as <em>Knocking on Heaven’s Door </em>by <em>Guns N’ Roses </em>started to ring throughout the yard.</p><p>“Oh, yeah.” Dean nodded, burying his fingers in Castiel’s feathers. “Just what we needed.”</p><p>Jo laughed. “I want to roll my eyes, but I love this song. I’m screwed.”</p><p>Dean held up a finger. “You’re never screwed when listening to good music.” He ran both hands through Castiel’s feathers, and then he grabbed the bottle of Dawn Sam had set on the ground behind them. “Unless you’re playing good music to set the mood, in which case, you’re definitely screwed, but it’s good screwed.”</p><p>Jo laughed, and Sam rolled his eyes.</p><p>Dean smirked to himself and kept working on Castiel’s wing.</p><p>Things settled into an easy silence after that, the music breaking up the monotony as they washed the large, black wings. They all sang some impressive solos, duets, and trios, and Castiel didn’t seem to mind the tunes. In fact, he seemed to kind of like them, though it was hard to tell with his perpetually fearful demeanor.</p><p>“Do you hear that?” Sam asked suddenly, leaning down slightly.</p><p>Dean squinted at Sam but also leaned down, trying to hear what Sam was hearing. At first, there was nothing, but then he heard a quiet rumble coming from the angel.</p><p>“Dude…” Dean blinked. “Are you <em>purring?</em>”</p><p>Castiel reached up and covered his mouth, but the noise persisted.</p><p>Sam had a little smile on his face when he spoke. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. He probably can’t control it.”</p><p>Dean looked at Sam with a mixture of surprise and disbelief on his face. “How do I not make a big deal of him <em>purring?</em>”</p><p>Jo spoke up then, still spreading soap through Castiel’s feathers. “Don’t make it weird, Dean. Getting his wings cleaned is probably like getting a back rub or having someone play with his hair. I’d be purring, too.”</p><p>Dean gave them both a weird look. “I better not be giving him a freaking back rub.” But he continued to run his hands over Castiel’s wings. “This is just to get you clean. Got it, angel?”</p><p>Castiel nodded seriously, no longer purring, and Dean felt a flicker of guilt. He had probably scared the angel by being his usual, abrasive self, which hadn’t been his intent.</p><p>Dean sighed and looked at Sam. “Help.”</p><p>Sam smiled a bit. “Castiel, Dean isn’t mad. He just isn’t used to people purring. That’s all.”</p><p>“What he said,” Dean confirmed.</p><p>Castiel nodded his head a few times, and from the contemplative look on his face, he seemed to understand.</p><p>It took about a half an hour, but it was eventually time for Castiel to get back in the shower. So, Castiel gave them all a cautious look, and then he went into the stall and turned on the water.</p><p>“Do you need any help?” Sam asked, holding the shower door open.</p><p>Castiel nodded and reached back behind himself, trying and failing to touch the place where his wings met his back. He looked at Sam and tried to touch the spot again, showing that he couldn’t reach.</p><p>“Ooh.” Dean winced sympathetically. “I hate trying to reach that spot.”</p><p>“I’ve got it,” Sam said, stepping into the shower stall and running his hands through Castiel’s feathers. “You’re getting me all wet again.”</p><p>Castiel froze up and looked at Sam with wide eyes.</p><p>
  <em>Well, at least it wasn’t me this time. </em>
</p><p>Sam quickly tried to fix his mistake. “It’s okay, Castiel. I’m not mad. I don’t mind getting wet.”</p><p>Dean cleaned his hands in the shower water and then leaned against the open doorway to the stall, watching the dirty soap flow from the feathers to the drain. “You were pretty messed up, Cas.” He looked at the angel, who was helpfully working the soap out of the parts of his wings he could reach. “Did you make someone angry?”</p><p>Castiel shook his head at first, his eyes wide and frantic. He looked at Dean, swallowed hard, and then reluctantly nodded a few times. Then he shook his head again, and then he nodded.</p><p>“Well, what does that mean?” Dean looked to Sam for help.</p><p>Sam didn’t say anything for a moment, and Dean knew from the look on his face that he was confused. “Um… I think…” Sam bit his lip and then continued haltingly. “I think… that might mean… he <em>did </em>make someone angry, but he didn’t mean to. Or maybe—”</p><p>Castiel was nodding before Sam could continue, his eyes brimming with the desperate need to make them understand.</p><p>Dean held up his hands in a ‘down boy’ motion. “Easy there, Cas. We get it. It was an accident.”</p><p>Castiel looked at Dean for a long moment, but then he got back to cleaning his wings.</p><p>Sam got back to cleaning, too, his clothing growing progressively wetter the longer he helped Castiel.</p><p><em>He really does care about him. </em>Dean wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that, but for the time being, it wasn’t doing any harm. <em>If Sammy’s gonna be treating this angel like a pet instead of a monster, we’re gonna need to know more.</em></p><p>“You ever been owned before, Cas?” Dean asked, keeping his tone casual.</p><p>Castiel blinked a few times and then nodded his head, moving so a new portion of his wing was under the water’s flow. He kept cleaning his wings, but he would periodically look over at Dean, a combination of fear and uncertainty in his eyes.</p><p>“Just once?”</p><p>Castiel shook his head, shifting his body so he could face Dean. This forced Sam into the corner, but Sam didn’t seem to mind, so Dean kept going.</p><p>“Did you like any of your owners?”</p><p>Castiel swallowed hard, no longer cleaning his wings, and he slowly shook his head.</p><p>“Huh.” Dean folded his arms over his chest, giving Castiel a scrutinizing look. “Did you do anything about that?”</p><p>“Dean,” Sam started, a warning tone in his voice.</p><p>“What?” Dean shifted his attention from Castiel to Sam, hidden though he was. “They’re just questions.”</p><p>Sam sighed but didn’t say anything further.</p><p>Dean looked back at Castiel and repeated himself. “So, did you do anything about the owners you didn’t like?”</p><p>Castiel looked at Dean with wide eyes, pupils dilating slightly. He shook his head slowly, clearly afraid of what Dean would do.</p><p>“Really?” Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “You just let them beat on you, huh?”</p><p>Castiel wet his lips and, after a quick look at Sam, he lifted his hands as if to protect himself from a blow.</p><p>Dean nodded his head in understanding. “So, you defended yourself, but you didn’t try and fight back. Is that about right?”</p><p>Castiel nodded a few times, and then he glanced at Sam again.</p><p>Dean waved a dismissive hand. “Go ahead. Help Sam with your wings. I’ll ask you more questions later.” He pushed off the doorframe and stepped out of the shower, walking over to Jo.</p><p>Jo smiled at him, barely able to keep from laughing.</p><p>“What’s so funny?” Dean snapped, only half irritated.</p><p>Jo shook her head, still grinning. “You and Sam are gonna come to blows over this angel.”</p><p>Dean ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “We just might.” He shook his head and looked at the shower stall. <em>We just might.</em></p><hr/><p>Hunters knew a lot about angels. They knew how to track and kill them, what their strengths and weaknesses were, and how to use their parts for spells and rituals. What hunters did <em>not </em>know about angels was anything involving their day-to-day life.</p><p>For example, food. While many hunters speculated that angels drew their energy from grace and didn’t need food, no one actually knew whether or not angels needed to eat. Because of this, Sam was halfway through the spaghetti John had made for lunch before he went ‘Oh, crap,’ and jumped to his feet.</p><p>“Hey, Castiel.” Sam would have offered a wave, but he had a plate in each hand. Instead, he put a warm smile on his face and stepped into the garage.</p><p>Castiel sat up a little straighter and blinked at Sam, curiosity dominating his features.</p><p>Sam looked over his shoulder briefly and jerked his head in the general direction of the door. “Can someone get that for me?”</p><p>John got to his feet and crossed the kitchen, leaning out to give Castiel a scrutinizing look before he shut the door.</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes and approached the mattress on the floor, sitting down and putting one plate in front of himself. He put the other one in front of Castiel and reinforced his smile. “I was eating lunch, and I realized that I don’t know whether or not you need to eat.” He rubbed the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. “I feel bad for not thinking of it sooner, but it’s just kinda assumed that you don’t eat, so…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I brought you something.”</p><p>Castiel blinked his wide blue eyes and cocked his head to one side, looking down at the plates. He shifted where he sat, cross-legged on the mattress, a contemplative expression crossing his face.</p><p>“It’s spaghetti.” Sam felt a little stupid explaining, but he figured if Castiel hadn’t known what band-aids were, there was a good chance he wouldn’t know what spaghetti was. “Have you ever had it before?”</p><p>Castiel stared at the food, seeming fascinated more than anything else, and when he looked at Sam, there was almost no fear in his eyes.</p><p>Sam smiled at the sight, and he picked up his own plate and fork. “Here, watch me.” He twirled the fork in the spaghetti, and then he lifted it up toward his mouth. “Like this.”</p><p>Castiel watched him put the food into his mouth, and then his eyes went down to his own plate. He cautiously reached out, his fingers ghosting along the edge of the glass, and then he looked at Sam with a silent, ‘Are you sure?’ in his eyes.</p><p>Sam nodded as he chewed. “Go ‘head.”</p><p>Castiel’s brow furrowed, and he looked down at the food. He bit his lip and carefully picked up his fork, stabbing the center of the spaghetti pile. He twisted the prongs in the noodles, and then he looked at Sam again.</p><p>Sam laughed good-naturedly. “It’s okay, Castiel.” He shook his head. “It’s not a trap.”</p><p>Castiel looked at Sam for a few more moments, and then he lifted the fork to his mouth. He stuck his tongue out and touched the noodles, checking the temperature, and then he opened his mouth as wide as he could and shoved the food in. He started to chew, and the contemplation on his face quickly melted into amazement, his eyes widening and zeroing in on the plate.</p><p>Sam chuckled softly. “Do you like it?”</p><p>Castiel nodded enthusiastically, using his fork-holding hand to wipe some sauce from the corner of his mouth.</p><p>“Good.” Sam got some more spaghetti on his fork, preparing to take another bite. “I’ll tell Dad you approve.”</p><p>Castiel hummed softly in response, and for a little while, the two ate in silence. For Sam, the quiet atmosphere was full of unspoken questions. He wondered how long it had been since Castiel ate something. He wondered if angels could throw up, and if Castiel had ever thrown up because of a nightmare or flashback. He wondered if Castiel could eat around Sam because he felt somewhat at ease, or if he could eat around Sam because he was desperate.</p><p>“So…” Sam set his empty plate aside and licked his lips. “I’ve been trying to think of ways we can communicate.”</p><p>Castiel looked up from his food and chewed quietly, waiting for Sam to continue.</p><p>“Do you think you could learn sign language?” Sam asked.</p><p>Castiel shook his head and twirled his fork through his spaghetti, shoveling the food into his mouth and slurping up whatever noodles hung out.</p><p>Sam chuckled softly, but he couldn’t deny feeling a bit discouraged. “I don’t suppose you have any idea on how we can communicate better.”</p><p>Castiel gave Sam an apologetic look and shook his head again.</p><p>“What about writing?” Sam wasn’t hopeful about the suggestion, but he figured it couldn’t hurt. “Could you write me a message?”</p><p>Castiel looked down at his food, and his lips started to move. He shuddered, looked at Sam, and then looked down again. He set his plate down, his appetite apparently leaving with the question, and his wings curled around him protectively.</p><p>Sam frowned slightly, but he tried not to show any negative emotions on his face. Hopefully, his confusion wouldn’t be misconstrued as something more sinister. “Castiel?”</p><p>Castiel grabbed his feathers, then let them go, and then grabbed them again. He wet his lips, and they started to move in silent words that clearly meant something to him.</p><p>“Castiel,” Sam started, keeping his voice gentle. “I just want to talk to you. That’s all.” He glanced at the garage door, wondering if John or Dean would have some insight to share, and then he looked back at Castiel. “Do you want to give it a try?”</p><p>Castiel shook, sliding his hands from his wings and hugging himself instead. He looked at Sam, fear written plainly on his face, but he didn’t shake his head.</p><p>“Castiel, it’s okay.” Sam smiled, hoping that would do something to encourage the angel. “It’s okay if I don’t understand it, or if it doesn’t work, or…” He shook his head. “Whatever you’re afraid of, it’s okay. I promise.”</p><p>Castiel looked at Sam and swallowed hard. He slowly let go of himself and made a writing gesture with his hand.</p><p>“You want to try it?” Sam asked.</p><p>Castiel nodded and then hugged himself again.</p><p>Sam got his feet beneath him and grabbed his plate, standing up. “I’m gonna go get something for you to write with, okay?” He grabbed the door but didn’t open it. “Why don’t you finish your spaghetti while you wait?”</p><p>Castiel didn’t respond, and he didn’t try to pick his plate up.</p><p>Sam was somewhat discouraged by that, but he opened the garage door and stepped into the kitchen.</p><p>“So,” Dean asked around a mouthful of food, “did featherbrain like it?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Sam put his plate and fork in the sink, and then he opened the junk drawer.</p><p>“What are you looking for?” John asked, taking a swig of his beer.</p><p>“Pen and paper.” Sam found the objects just as he answered.</p><p>John quirked a brow. “The angel gonna write something?”</p><p>“He’s gonna try.” Sam held both objects up and gave his family a look that said, ‘Here goes nothing.’</p><p>Dean gave a thumbs up, and John muttered ‘Good luck,’ before taking another swig.</p><p>Sam walked back out into the garage and closed the door behind him. He sat down by the mattress and frowned at the untouched plate of food.</p><p>“Castiel, you should really try to eat.” Sam nudged the plate a little closer.</p><p>Castiel shook his head, putting a hand on his stomach and looking at Sam with a nauseated expression.</p><p>Sam wet his lips. “Well…” He fought with himself for a moment, and then he decided to go with his gut. “Look, I don’t know how food words for angels, but with humans, if you go for a long time without eating, your stomach actually gets smaller. You might feel full, but if you try, I bet you could eat some more, and I think that would be good for you.” He set the tablet and pen on the floor behind him. “We can write later.”</p><p>Castiel looked at the food with a less-than-enthusiastic expression, but he slowly reached out and picked up his plate.</p><p>Sam smiled encouragingly. “Just give it a try. If you can’t eat it, that’s okay, but I really want you to try.”</p><p>Castiel nodded a few times and, after a moment of thought, shoved a forkful into his mouth.</p><p>Sam sat in silent while Castiel ate, waiting patiently for the angel to finish. Briefly, he worried that he had intimidated Castiel to the point where he would eat until he was physically ill, but then Sam remembered the times Castiel had said ‘no’ in response to what Sam wanted. As scared as Castiel was, he seemed to be able to say ‘no’ when it counted. Of course, Castiel didn’t seem to know his body that well, so it was possible he didn’t <em>know </em>when to say ‘no.’</p><p>
  <em>I hope I’m doing this right. I really, really hope I’m doing this right.</em>
</p><p>It took about te n minutes for Castiel to finish the food, and when he was done, Sam handed over the pen and tablet. Castiel took the objects and stared at them, taking a deep breath and letting it out.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>Castiel took the pen in hand and put it to the page, looking at Sam and hesitating.</p><p>Sam only smiled. “It’s okay, Castiel. You can do this.”</p><p>Castiel’s hand didn’t move, and he kept staring at Sam.</p><p>Sam wet his lips and cleared his throat. “Uh… would it help if I turned around? Or shut my eyes or something?”</p><p>Castiel nodded.</p><p>Sam nodded back and immediately closed his eyes, trying to shut down his hunter’s instinct. That voice inside him that sounded an awful lot like his dad and reminded him not to do stupid things like close his eyes around an angel. It was a persistent voice, but it was a voice that went ignored, and Sam sat with his eyes closed for a good minute and a half before Castiel nudged him on the knee.</p><p>Sam opened his eyes and saw Castiel holding out the tablet and pen, a mixture of fear and resignation on his face. Like he expected Sam to hurt him for what he wrote, but he felt he needed to write it anyway for some reason Sam was not privy to.</p><p>Sam took the tablet, and in one glance, he knew what it was.</p><p>“This is Enochian.”</p><p>Castiel pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded his head.</p><p>Sam looked the message over, and while he recognized a couple of the words, it was mostly undecipherable to him. Hunter knowledge of Enochian was, like all knowledge about angels, limited to things related to hunting. Incantations Sam would recognize, but everyday speech? Sam had no clue.</p><p>Sam held up the tablet. “Let me talk to Dean and my dad. They might have some ideas about what this says.”</p><p>Castiel shrank back, his eyes going wide, and he shook his head rapidly.</p><p>“Castiel, it’s okay.” Sam spoke softly but unwaveringly. “They aren’t going to be upset about this. But they’ve worked with Enochian just as much as I have, and they might be able to help me understand what you’re trying to tell me.”</p><p>Castiel looked at the tablet and then at Sam’s face again, fear carved into his features. His chest rose and fell with quivering breaths, and his wings started to curl around his body.</p><p>“Castiel, listen to me.” Sam spoke as earnestly as he could, practically pleading with the angel. “I <em>just </em>want to understand you, okay? I <em>just </em>want to understand you.”</p><p>Castiel bit his lip and looked down and to the side, a contemplative expression crossing his face. Fear was still alive in his eyes, but he seemed to be considering the idea of bringing Dean and John in on the communication attempt. He looked at Sam, squinted slightly, and then he offered a faint nod.</p><p>Sam smiled and let out a small sigh of relief, getting to his feet. “I’ll be back soon.”</p><p>Castiel nodded and leaned back against the wall of the garage, his wings fluttering slightly before wrapping around him tightly.</p><p>Sam opened the door and walked into the kitchen, going over to the dinner table. Where John and Dean were sitting with empty plates and beers. Sam plopped the tablet down in front of his father and brother.</p><p>“Do you guys recognize anything here?”</p><p>John and Dean both leaned forward for a closer look.</p><p>“Well,” Dean started, pointing to the last word on the page. “That says ‘Enochian.’”</p><p>John nodded his head and pointed to the first word. “That means the statement is in the first person. It’s either ‘I’ or ‘my’ or ‘mine.’ Something like that.”</p><p>Sam nodded and let out a small sigh. “Yeah, those were the only two I knew.”</p><p>Dean frowned, turning the tablet slightly so it was facing him. “This is all he wrote?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Sam put his hands on his hips. “What do you think he’s trying to say?”</p><p>John leaned back in his chair and reached up, scratching his scalp. “Better question is, why would he write it in Enochian?”</p><p>Sam shrugged his shoulders. “I figured it’s something significant to angels. Maybe something that doesn’t have an English equivalent.”</p><p>Dean frowned. “Maybe he can only speak Enochian.”</p><p>Sam looked at Dean in mild surprise. “That’s actually a really good idea.”</p><p>Dean snorted. “Don’t sound so surprised.”</p><p>“It would explain why he’s not talking,” John added, grabbing his beer and taking a drink. “If he tried to speak Enochian around any hunters, they would have kicked his teeth in before he finished the first word.”</p><p>Dean folded his arms on the tabletop. “That also explains why he can say his name. Names are universal.”</p><p>Sam frowned in thought, shaking his head as he stared down at the writing. “But he can understand us, and not just general ideas and vague concepts. He understands English perfectly, but he can’t write or speak it? At all?”</p><p>Dean’s face screwed up, and he grabbed his beer. “Yeah, that doesn’t make sense.” He took a swig.</p><p>Sam sighed. “It has to be something supernatural.”</p><p>John nodded in agreement. “Someone put some kind of spell on him that makes him only able to communicate in Enochian.”</p><p>“Let me ask him.” Sam turned and walked back out to the garage, letting the door hang open when he saw John and Dean walking after him. “Castiel, can you only speak Enochian?”</p><p>Castiel nodded vigorously, a somewhat hopeful expression on his face.</p><p>John stepped into the garage and regarded the angel with his hands on his hips. “Did someone put a spell on you to make it that way?”</p><p>Castiel nodded again, a little more timid than before, and he seemed less comfortable with John in the room.</p><p>Sam squinted slightly, confusion creasing his brow as he posed a question to the people in the room who could actually talk. “So, why was he willing to write Enochian but not speak it?”</p><p>John didn’t take his eyes off Castiel. “He probably tried speaking it in the past and was cut off as soon as the hunter recognized it was Enochian. By writing a message, he guaranteed he would be able to finish his sentence and show it to you all at once.”</p><p>Sam nodded his head a few times. “That makes sense.” He offered a small smile to Castiel, trying to ease the tension John and Dean’s presence was creating. “I’m gonna figure out what kind of spell you’re under, and I’m going to break it.”</p><p>Castiel gave Sam a worn, defeated look and shook his head.</p><p>Dean leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest. “Don’t discount Sammy with a laptop, Cas.”</p><p>John reached up and rubbed his beard. “I don’t know, boys. He’s probably tried just about everything.”</p><p>“But he was in captivity,” Sam pointed out, looking back down at the written Enochian in his hands. “He didn’t have the resources we do.”</p><p>Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder. “I gotta side with Sammy on this one, Dad. Someone, somewhere figured out how to put this spell on him. It’s gotta be possible to reverse it somehow.”</p><p>John shrugged his shoulders. “You’re more than welcome to try. Try talking to Bobby. He’s got a slew of lore on angels.”</p><p>Sam thought about the time for a moment, and he figured if they were done with lunch it was probably sometime after one. That left him with plenty of time to start researching.</p><p>“I’ll go get started at Bobby’s.” Sam smiled at Castiel, pointing at him and speaking with conviction. “Just you wait, Castiel. I’m gonna get you talking again.”</p><p>Castiel’s lips twitched into a second-long smile, but his expression could only be described as defeated. He didn’t believe Sam had any chance of figuring out the spell.</p><p><em>I’ll just have to prove him wrong. </em>Sam went back into the house and headed through the dining room toward the front door. <em>I can do this.</em></p><p>Of that, he had no doubt. It was just a matter of how much time it would take.</p><p>And Sam was a very patient man.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, if you're wondering why it took so long for this chapter to be posted, it's because my computer failed to save several pages of progress TWICE, and I decided it was a sign that I was supposed to completely scrap the chapter and start over. So... I did. I hope it was worth it, and I hope you all enjoy!</p><p>WARNING: This chapter contains flashbacks to a gang rape. I kept it very vague, but just so you know, it's there.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was hot. It was close and moist and sticky. Suffocating. Like his wings were wrapped around his body so tightly he couldn’t breathe, like his skin was tightening over his muscles and strangling him, like—</p><p>“Oh, you’re beautiful. Just look at you.”</p><p>Hands. Someone clawed at his sides, digging their fingers into his flesh and pulling him close. Palms slapped against his skin, leaving red marks that were invisible in the darkness. Something pushed into him, and the hands raked over his body again.</p><p>“Not so high and mighty now, are we?”</p><p>Slime trailed up his throat, a hot tongue tracing his jugular before teeth—no, not teeth, fangs—dug in deep. Someone sucked on his blood, someone pulled his hair, someone grabbed his thigh, someone—</p><p>He fell forward.</p><p>“Getting tired, angel?”</p><p>Something dug into his chest, keeping him from hitting the floor. It was cold and hard, the sensation almost refreshing when compared to the smothering <em>heat.</em></p><p>“Sorry, but we’re not quite finished with you yet.”</p><p>Something—no, someone, it was part of someone—thrust inside him, hard and fast and slick with blood, like a knife cutting into him over and over and <em>over. </em>He thought he screamed, but he couldn’t be sure, he only knew his throat felt like he had swallowed knives.</p><p>“Shh, it’s okay, angel. You’ll start to like it soon enough.”</p><p>It was still so hot, and he didn’t know why. Hands groped his body again. Fangs sank into his shoulder, blood spurting from the holes in his flesh. Something gripped his thigh, pulling his knee up toward his chest, and whoever was inside him began to move faster.</p><p>“Such a good boy for us. Such a good little slut.”</p><p>Blood trickled down his throat, painting him red. Tears streamed down his cheeks, drying in the hot, stale air. Fluids streaked down his thighs and the backs of his knees, tacky from the hours of repeated layering. Sweat matted his bangs to his face, the salty dampness mingling with the snot that clung to his nose.</p><p>His body dropped to the floor, the restraint that had held him up suddenly gone, and hands grappled with his wings. They pulled on the tendons and feathers mercilessly, stretching the wings as far as they would go. Fingers dug into his back and tangled through his hair, pushing and pulling and twisting until his body was angled the way they wanted. His face and arms and knees scraped against the wooden floor, raw and swollen, and then the thrusting got faster.</p><p>It got faster and harder and wetter, and hotter and closer and tighter, and they pushed and pulled and punched and scratched, and they were <em>in </em>him, and he was bleeding, and he was burning, and he couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t think, and, and, and—</p><p>Castiel woke up screaming.</p>
<hr/><p><em>Castiel! </em>Sam abandoned his research, leaving it on the kitchen table and bolting for the garage. He threw the door open and sent up a silent prayer that Dean and John would sleep through the ruckus. “Castiel?”</p><p>Castiel was sitting up on his mattress, desperately kicking and shoving at his blanket, and even more desperately gasping for air. He clawed at the cement walls and struggled to his feet, turning in a frantic circle and flapping his wings.</p><p>“Castiel, it’s okay!” Sam shut the door behind him and approached Castiel, but he couldn’t take more than a few steps before he had to stop or risk getting smacked by a wing. “Castiel, it was just a dream! Listen to me!”</p><p>Castiel turned toward Sam’s voice, but he didn’t seem to process what Sam was saying. His chest heaved as he fought to get air into his lungs, and he clawed desperately at his own shirt, trying to get the fabric off himself.</p><p>“Castiel!”</p><p>Castiel finally looked at Sam, blue eyes wild with fear, and he uttered the most confused and defeated sound Sam had ever heard. He wrapped his arms around himself and backed away from Sam, making the noise again and then tapering off into quiet whimpers.</p><p>If Sam had to take a guess—and because Castiel was mute, he did—he would have guessed that Castiel was slowly starting to process that he had been dreaming.</p><p>“It’s okay, Cas.” Sam almost took a step, but then he thought of the way Castiel had backed up, and he thought better of it. “It’s okay. No one here is going to hurt you. It was just a bad dream.”</p><p>Castiel sucked down a few lungsful of air and looked at Sam with broken eyes. He clenched his jaw and pressed his lips into a thin line, clearly trying to control himself, and then he buried his face in his hands and sobbed.</p><p>Sam stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do, and then he cautiously took a few steps forward. He looked Castiel up and down, bit his lip, and then softly asked, “What can I do?”</p><p>Castiel only shook his head, still hiding his face in his hands, wings spread wide.</p><p>
  <em>That’s odd.</em>
</p><p>Normally, Castiel wrapped his wings around himself and grabbed at his feathers. The fact that they were held away from his body combined with the way he had desperately tried to get his blanket off made Sam think Castiel didn’t want to be touched.</p><p>“Let’s take a walk,” Sam blurted it out before he even realized what he was suggesting, but he didn’t stop himself. “We don’t have to go far. We’ll just walk around inside the compound fence.”</p><p>Castiel lifted his head and wiped his face, sucking down a lungful of oxygen and croaking out a concerned, “John?”</p><p>“Forget Dad.” Sam waved it off like it was nothing. “He can’t get mad at us for taking a walk.” Well, he could, and he probably would, but Sam wasn’t worried about that. He just wanted to get Castiel out of his own head as quickly as possible.</p><p>Castiel wiped his face again and swallowed hard, blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. He was right on the edge of a breakdown, and staying in the garage wasn’t helping him.</p><p>“Come on, Castiel.” Sam smiled slightly and reached out, nudging Castiel on the upper arm while still keeping space between them. “It’ll make you feel better. Trust me.”</p><p>Castiel took a slow breath and blinked rapidly, trying to clear away the tears in his eyes. He wet his lips, looked down at the floor for a moment, and then he nodded faintly.</p><p>Sam immediately made his way over to the garage door and leaned down, hoisting it up. He winced at the noise it made, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Taking Castiel through the house seemed like the bigger risk, and if Castiel’s screaming didn’t wake up John and Dean, then maybe the door wouldn’t, either.</p><p>“Come on.” Sam turned around and reached out his hand, a soft smile pulling on his lips.</p><p>Castiel stared at Sam, his eyes wide and tearful. His face was flushed from panic, his hair was disheveled and matted with sweat, and small tremors racked his body.</p><p>“Castiel.” Sam extended his hand a little further, his smile widening. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you. We’re just gonna take a walk.”</p><p>Castiel wiped his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly reaching out. He grabbed Sam’s hand, and for a moment the fear lingered in his eyes, but then he seemed to calm. His eyes got a little less wide, and the trembling in his arms and legs stopped.</p><p>“There we go.” Sam kept smiling, hoping it would ease Castiel into a state of calm. “You’re safe with me.” He tugged on Castiel’s arm slightly. “Let’s take a walk.”</p><p>Castiel slowly started walking toward the garage door, his eyes wandering over the frame. He gripped Sam’s hand a little tighter and stepped through, immediately looking up at the night sky.</p><p>Sam looked up, too. It was a clear night, with a full moon shining brightly overhead, and constellations decorated the dark blue expanse. It was beautiful, and as the pair slowly walked away from the house, Sam realized he didn’t know when Castiel had last been outside at night. It definitely hadn’t been since John had bought him.</p><p>“Castiel,” Sam started slowly, still holding Castiel’s hand, “when was the last time you saw a night sky?”</p><p>Castiel didn’t say anything, but his eyes welled up with tears again. He shook his head, squeezed Sam’s hand, and then started to look around.</p><p>“Don’t panic.” Sam continued to walk down the driveway to the road that ran through the compound, and he pointed to the two-story house several yards away from them. “See that house? That’s where my Uncle Bobby lives.”</p><p>Castiel looked at the building and nodded his head. He then turned his head and looked at the house across the road from Bobby’s.</p><p>Sam kept walking, pulling Castiel down the road, and he continued to talk. “That house is where my Aunt Ellen lives. Jo lives there, too.” He looked at Castiel. “Remember Jo?”</p><p>Castiel nodded slowly, watching the house, and then he looked at the last building in the compound, an average-sized shed between the Winchester’s and Bobby’s.</p><p>“That’s just storage.” Sam waved it off.</p><p>Castiel nodded a few times and looked around, scanning the four buildings with unspoken thoughts written in his eyes. He squinted slightly, and then his eyes wandered down to the hand Sam was still holding. He looked at their hands, and then he looked at Sam, uttering a questioning noise.</p><p>“I don’t mind.” Sam gave Castiel’s hand a squeeze. “I’m not like Dean. My sense of masculinity doesn’t ride on stereotypes.”</p><p>Castiel looked thoughtful for a moment, and then his lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. He watched their hands for a few seconds, and then he looked up at the night sky again.</p><p>Sam looked at Castiel, and he couldn’t help but notice the way Castiel’s wings were positioned. From the moment Sam laid eyes on Castiel, the large, black wings had been curled up or drawn in close. Even when they had been stretched out so the hunters could wash them, Castiel had kept them low to the ground. He was always trying to make himself seem smaller. But now…</p><p>They were unfurled and stretched out behind Castiel, each wing easily the size of Sam’s body and then some. They looked a lot more like the wings of the only angel Sam had ever seen in person—one that wasn’t so non-violent or scared—and it gave Sam pause.</p><p>
  <em>No. Castiel isn’t like other angels. He’s a victim, not a monster.</em>
</p><p>Sam squeezed Castiel’s hand to get his attention, and he offered a small smile when Castiel looked at him. “Are your wings healthy enough for you to fly?”</p><p>Castiel blinked several times, and, with a bewildered look on his face, he nodded his head.</p><p>Sam let go of Castiel’s hand and smiled wider. “Do it.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the sky. “Take a fly. Just to stretch your wings and get some fresh air. I won’t stop you.”</p><p>Castiel blinked a few more times and pointed to his wings, his features twisted up with confusion.</p><p>Sam nodded and took a step back. “Go ahead.” He had barely gotten the words out when he realized he sounded a little demanding, and he tried to soften his approach. “I mean, only if you want to. You don’t <em>have </em>to fly, I just thought it might make you feel good.”</p><p>Castiel looked at Sam for a long moment, brow creased, lips slightly parted, eyes squinted and searching. He looked at Sam, and then he looked at his wings, and then a little grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. He took a few steps back, spread his wings, and—</p><p>“Woah!” Sam staggered backward as Castiel took to the skies, his arms instinctively raising to protect his face from the wind created by Castiel’s takeoff.</p><p>Castiel flapped his enormous wings and took himself higher, quickly rising above the trees that surrounded the compound. He went in a large circle, following the metal fencing that enclosed the hunters’ houses. He swooped downward and then went back up, tracing large figure eights in the sky.</p><p>Sam watched with wide eyes and an open mouth, his lips turned upward in an incredulous smile. He wanted to cheer, but there were obvious reasons why he couldn’t, so he put two fists in the air and hoped Castiel could see and understand that Sam was happy for him.</p><p>Castiel looped through the air again, going up high before tumbling over backward and dropping down. He turned his body as he fell, getting his feet beneath him and spreading his wings to catch the air and slow his descent. He flapped a few times to slow himself even more, and as Sam stared in awestruck silence, Castiel carefully landed in the grass and promptly flopped onto his back.</p><p>Sam rushed over and stared down at Castiel, torn between fascination and worry. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Castiel nodded his head rapidly, chest heaving as he gasped for air. His face was flushed, and his hair was a mess, but he was smiling. He was really smiling, wide and genuine and not at all dampened by the negative effects of his flight. He was happy.</p><p>Sam laughed and held out a hand to help Castiel up, shaking his head in disbelief. “That was awesome.”</p><p>Castiel reached up and took the hand, pulling himself to his feet and wobbling a little before managing to steady himself.</p><p>Sam wet his lips and shook his head again, some of his amazement fading under a surge of confusion. “Why don’t you leave? I know you’re still a little shaky, but—” He shook his head again. “You could be free. Why stay in our dingy garage when you could be out there in the sun?”</p><p>Castiel’s smile faded but didn’t quite disappear, and with a bittersweet expression on his face, he pointed to the bandage on his stomach.</p><p>Sam looked at the gauze and tape, remembering what the wound underneath looked like while his dad was packing it with fresh material. He felt his own smile leave him, and he gave Castiel a questioning look. “You can’t leave because you still need help with your wounds?”</p><p>Castiel nodded his head, but a smile still lingered on his lips. It didn’t seem to really bother him that he had to stay in captivity, and Sam didn’t understand. Sam spent every day of his life wishing he had more freedom, and he wasn’t a literal prisoner like Castiel was.</p><p>“Maybe you could leave, and we could pick a place to meet, and I could help you with your bandages and stuff until you’re better. Or maybe—”</p><p>Castiel shook his head, still wearing that smile on his face. He reached for Sam’s hand and made a grabbing motion.</p><p>Sam took the hand and squeezed it, looking at Castiel in confusion. He looked at their interlocked fingers and then looked at Castiel’s face, shaking his head. “I don’t understand.”</p><p>Castiel hesitated for a moment, but then he opened his mouth and uttered a single word. “<em>Ordonra.</em>”</p><p>Sam looked at their hands again, and he immediately felt a rush of awkwardness. “Uh…” He wet his lips. “Does that mean… is that like a word for partners? Because, um, I…” He wet his lips again. “I like you, Cas, but I don’t—”</p><p>Castiel shook his head before Sam could get any further. “<em>Ordonra,</em>” he repeated.</p><p>Sam was relieved to find Castiel wasn’t falling in love with him or anything like that, and he quickly went with the next track his brain train jumped to. “Is that… like a word for friends?”</p><p>Castiel smiled and nodded his head rapidly, lifting their joined hands so they were level with their faces. “<em>Ordonra.</em>” He dropped their hands but still held on. “Sam. <em>Ordonra.</em>”</p><p>Sam didn’t say anything for a moment, not knowing what his reaction was supposed to be and feeling a little lost. What was the morally correct thing to do when someone your dad owned decided you were his friend? Wasn’t that like… Stockholm Syndrome or something? But Sam genuinely liked Castiel, and in another life, he could easily see them being friends.</p><p>
  <em>Why does it have to be in another life? Why can’t we just be friends?</em>
</p><p>Maybe they could.</p><p>Sam smiled at Castiel and nodded once. “<em>Ordonra.</em>” He let go of Castiel’s hand and made a fist, holding it level with their shoulders. “But, just for the record, the masculine thing to do is bump fists.”</p><p>Castiel crossed his arms over his chest and arched a brow, giving Sam a slightly judgmental look. “Dean?”</p><p>Sam dropped his jaw and stuttered. “I—I am <em>not </em>like Dean! I don’t have anything <em>against </em>holding hands, I’m just <em>saying—</em>”</p><p>Castiel smiled wide, like he had when he had just landed, and he held up a fist for Sam to bump.</p><p>Sam took another moment to be indignant, and then he smiled and bumped Castiel’s fist with his own. “I think you’re gonna make a great friend, Cas.” He opened his mouth to continue but stopped short, shuffling in place and rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh… I’ve never really had any friends. I mean, there’s Jo, but… she’s more like family. Plus, she’s like Dean. They’re both wired for the hunting life, and I’m just—” Sam struggled with his words for a moment, and then he slumped in defeat, realizing there was no good way to say you were an outcast in your own family. “I’m just different. I’ve always been different. I just…” He sighed, a small smile pulling on his lips as he tried to get away from his self-depreciation. “I guess I just wanted to say… thanks for being my friend. And I hope I don’t let you down.”</p><p>Castiel smiled and waved it off, like he wasn’t at all concerned about the kind of friend Sam would be. Like he already knew Sam was good friend material. Like he had seen their future and the outcome was a good one.</p><p>Sam was flattered by the trust, but he chose not to comment on it. “What about you?” he asked, shifting the conversation to something that might benefit Castiel. “Did you have friends before you were captured?”</p><p>Castiel’s wings drooped slightly, and he offered a slow shake of the head, his expression dampened with sadness.</p><p>“Sorry.” Sam pressed his lips into a thin line. “I was hoping maybe someone you knew would be able to help us figure out how to reverse this spell on you.” He thought about the conversation for a moment, and then he tried another angle. “What about family?”</p><p>Castiel drooped a little more and shook his head again.</p><p>Sam winced and apologized again. “Sorry. I was trying to help, but… I guess those are kinda personal questions.”</p><p>Castiel seemed to dwell on his sadness for a moment more, and then he shrugged. He pressed his lips together, and his expression looked like it said something along the lines of, ‘It is what it is.’</p><p>Sam didn’t say anything for a moment, and then he reached out and socked Castiel on the shoulder. “Well, you have a friend now. <em>Ordonra.</em>”</p><p>Castiel smiled, and his wings perked up a little. He looked at Sam with contentment on his face, taking a deep breath and letting it out. He looked over his shoulder at the garage and then looked back at Sam, that contentment fading just a bit as his eyes asked, ‘We have to go back, don’t we?’</p><p>Sam mirrored the reluctant expression on Castiel’s face and nodded his head. “Yeah. We’re not really doing anything wrong, but… it’s probably best if Dad doesn’t find us out here.”</p><p>Castiel nodded in understanding and turned toward the Winchester house, trudging up the driveway to the garage.</p><p>Sam followed Castiel into the garage and then turned around, grabbing the garage door and lowering it as quietly as he could. Once it was shut, Sam turned and saw Castiel settling onto his mattress and pulling his blanket up to his chest.</p><p>“You gonna be okay?” Sam asked, standing beside the mattress and wishing he could give Castiel a more comfortable space to call his own.</p><p>Castiel nodded his head with a cautious demeanor. Clearly, he didn’t know whether or not he would have nightmares again, but there wasn’t really anything he could do about it.</p><p>Sam slipped his hands into his pockets. “Well, if you’re alright, I’m gonna get back to my research.” He started walking toward the door that led into the house. “Tomorrow I’m going to Ray’s, and I’m gonna ask some questions about where he got you. If I can work my way back through your owners, I might find the one who put the spell on you.”</p><p>Castiel shook his head sadly, which Sam had come to expect. Castiel was convinced there was nothing Sam could do to help him, and so far, Sam hadn’t been able to change Castiel’s mind.</p><p>“I have to try, Cas.” Sam offered a small smile and put his hand on the doorknob. “I just wanted to let you know I won’t be around tomorrow. Okay?”</p><p>Castiel nodded his head twice and then laid down, pulling the blanket up a little higher and wrapping his wings around himself.</p><p>Sam twisted the doorknob and let himself into the house, uttering a quiet, “Goodnight, Castiel,” as he left the garage behind.</p><p>Sam shut the door to the garage and fell back against it, running both hands through his hair and letting out a heavy sigh. <em>I have to find a way to break this spell.</em></p><p>He had to do it for a number of reasons. First and foremost, Castiel deserved a chance to communicate with the world around him. Second, it would make it a lot easier for Sam to understand what was going on in Castiel’s head. Third, Castiel needed to be able to talk about the things he had been through. Fourth, Sam believed his family would start seeing Castiel as more of a person if they could talk to him.</p><p>And the list went on.</p><p><em>It’s okay. </em>Sam took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair again, looking up at the ceiling. <em>It’s okay. I’m gonna figure this out. </em></p><p>But the answer wasn’t going to fall into his lap; it was going to take a lot of work. So, Sam walked over to the kitchen table and sat down, looking at the spell books he had gotten from Bobby. He grabbed the one he had been reading before he was interrupted, and he picked up where he left off, the kitchen settling into silence.</p><p>
  <em>I’m gonna figure out this spell and reverse it. I promise, Cas.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>“How’s your dad liking the angel?”</p><p>Sam looked away from the boxes of ammunition when Ray came out of the back room, a polite smile instinctively pulling on his lips. “We haven’t had a chance to use him yet, but it’s pretty fascinating.”</p><p>Ray nodded in agreement and leaned against the checkout counter. “It’s a crazy thing to be around an angel and not be fighting for your life.”</p><p>Sam snorted, nodding his head a few times. “No kidding. I’ve only ever encountered one angel, and it didn’t end well.”</p><p>Ray reached up to scratch his short beard, and then his hand fell back down to the counter. “I remember that. You all got pretty beat up. Wasn’t Dean in a coma or something?”</p><p>Sam slipped his hands into his pockets and pressed his lips together, remembering the long nights in the hospital at Dean’s side. “Yeah. It took him a while to get back on his feet.”</p><p>“Well.” Ray put his hands on his hips and looked at Sam with a cheerful smile. “What can I do for you today, Sammy?”</p><p>“Just Sam is fine,” Sam said, trying to politely discourage the nickname, and then he approached the checkout counter. “I’m trying to get some more information on the angel. How did you manage to capture one?”</p><p>Ray shook his head right away. “Oh, it wasn’t me, Sam.” He gestured vaguely to the back room. “Most of the creatures I sell come from a big compound of hunters in Eastern Pennsylvania, but angels are a special deal. A hunter by the name of Asa Fox brought him to me.”</p><p>Sam pulled a pen and pad from his back pocket and jotted down the name. “Okay. What can you tell me about that?”</p><p>Ray reached up and scratched his beard again. “Well, I can tell you Asa came across the angel by mistake. He was hunting some vampires, found their nest, and the angel was already there. He never found the vampires—they had cleared out as soon as they heard he was in town—so he wasn’t sure what they did to the angel to make his grace so weak.”</p><p>Sam continued to nod as he listened, and he immediately knew what his next task was going to be. “So,” Sam looked up from his notepad, “do you happen to know where he was hunting these vampires?”</p><p>“Uh…” Ray scratched his head and looked up at the ceiling, letting out a long stream of air. “Ooh, boy, let me think.” He squinted and thought about it for a moment. “It was Sterling. Sterling, Colorado.”</p><p>Sam wasn’t entirely sure how far away that was, but the compound was in Lincoln, Nebraska, and Colorado was right next door. Hopefully, Sterling would be on the end of the state that was closer.</p><p>“Did the angel have any grace at all when Asa brought him to you?”</p><p>Ray thought about it for a second or two, and then he started to nod. “I reckon he had to. His injuries started healing while I had him, so… he must have had some grace left over.” He reached up to his throat, his finger curled. “There were awful deep bite marks in his throat, definitely from the vampires. But by the time your dad bought him, they looked like bite marks from a human.”</p><p><em>Huh. So, he had enough grace that bite marks started to heal up, but not enough grace to keep him from getting an infection. </em>Sam frowned slightly. <em>But that infected wound wasn’t life threatening. Dad was able to drain and stitch the wound with only a hunter’s medical training, and it’s been healing since then, not getting worse. Maybe—</em></p><p>“Sam?” Ray squinted and leaned forward slightly. “You alright?”</p><p>Sam nodded quickly, pushing his thoughts aside for later. “Yeah, I was just thinking.” He took a breath, considered the lies he had concocted on the drive over, and started speaking. “Look, here’s the deal. Dad and I think, if we play our cards right, this angel could lead us to a whole nest of angels. We’re making some progress, but we’ve run into a couple stumbling blocks.”</p><p>Ray whistled. “You boys are crazy.” He folded his arms over his chest. “But I’ll help however I can. What problems did you run into?”</p><p>“Well, for starters, the angel can only speak Enochian.” Sam hated calling Castiel ‘the angel.’ “He can understand us, and we can tell he’s trying to communicate with us, but all he’s managed to do so far is write an Enochian message.”</p><p>Ray nodded contemplatively, drumming his fingers on his upper arm. “Well, I might be able to help with that. Now, I’ve got no clue what kinda spell you’re dealing with, but…” He walked around the counter and moved past Sam, heading to the far side of his store.</p><p>Sam followed along curiously, and even though he was discouraged to hear Ray didn’t know what kind of spell Castiel was under, he didn’t give up hope. Ray clearly thought he had something of value, so Sam was going to investigate, and hopefully something good would come of it.</p><p>“Here.” Ray came to a stop by a floor to ceiling bookshelf and started running his finger along the upper spines of the books, clearly searching for something. “Let’s see, it’s a pretty big one… old, too… hmm…”</p><p>Sam stood patiently and watched the middle-aged man scan the books.</p><p>“Ha!” Ray pulled a thick book from the second to bottom shelf and turned to Sam, handing it over. “An Enochian to English dictionary. It never sold because… well, no one really tries to talk to angels, and it’s alphabetized by phonetic pronunciation.”</p><p>Sam tried to keep his jaw off the floor as he took the book from Ray. “Seriously?”</p><p>“Seriously. I found it on my doorstep one day. No note, and no sign it was sent through the mail.” Ray reached out and tapped the hard, leather cover of the book. “Says it was written by someone named Gabriel, and the funny thing? I talked to some other hunter shops across the country, and they all got one, too.”</p><p>Sam tried not to be too intrigued by that, because some mysterious phantom author wasn’t his main mission, but it was definitely something he would keep in mind.</p><p>Sam opened the book in the middle, skimmed the text, and to his delight, he found normal words, not just words associated with spells.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Revana – Love</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Revanella – Loving</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Revanestis – Sweater</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Revanesu – House</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Will that help?”</p><p>Sam looked up from the book and smiled, feeling just the slightest bit guilty about lying. “This will be a huge help. Something like this will enable us to decipher the angel’s messages.”</p><p>Ray gave him a thumbs up and then gestured toward the checkout counter. “I have Asa Fox’s cellphone number, too. I’ll give it to you. Maybe he can tell you more about how he found the angel.”</p><p>Sam tucked the book under one arm and turned to go back to the front of the store. “That would be great. Thanks.”</p><p>Sam walked to the front of the store with Ray on his heels, a faint hope flickering in his chest. The dictionary wouldn’t really help him decipher written messages, but it would enable him to decipher what Castiel said verbally. Sure, it would take time, and it wasn’t an optimal form of communication by any means, but it was a start.</p><p>“How much for the book?” Sam asked, reaching for his back pocket.</p><p>Ray waved it off. “As much as I love money, this one’s on the house.” He grabbed a scrap of paper from behind the counter and started writing on it, lips drawn into a frown. “I, uh, I don’t know if your dad ever mentioned it, but an angel got me into hunting in the first place. Killed my wife and my little girl.” He cleared his throat and blinked away the moisture in his eyes, looking at Sam with something like determination on his face. “If this helps you track down and kill a whole nest of angels, it’s well worth the money for some old book.”</p><p>Sam felt even more guilty about his lying, but he didn’t let it show. He just offered a small smile and a quiet, “We’ll do our best.”</p><p>Ray nodded affirmatively and handed over the paper.</p><p>Sam nodded back and took the note before turning and walking toward the exit. He lifted a hand over his head and waved, calling over his shoulder, “See ya, Ray! Thanks for everything!”</p><p>“You got it, Sammy!”</p><p>Sam almost commented on the nickname, but in the end, he let it slide and continued out to the Impala. He got in the car with a sigh and placed the Enochian dictionary in the seat next to him, his mind wandering back to what Ray had told him.</p><p>
  <em>Vampires, huh?</em>
</p><p>Sam had no problems hunting down the nest, or with torturing them for information, if it meant he could help Castiel. Maybe that made a hypocrite of him, but he really didn’t care, and maybe that was the part of him that was built for hunting. For Sam, if a goal for the greater good was on the table, the rules changed.</p><p>
  <em>What if you thought Castiel could really lead you to other angels, like you told Ray? Would you torture him then?</em>
</p><p>Sam gripped the steering wheel and looked down at his lap. Why couldn’t the answers be easy? Why couldn’t he live like Dean, where the world was black and white and the rules never changed? Why couldn’t he just follow orders and get the job done? Why couldn’t—</p><p>Sam startled slightly, pulling his phone from his pocket and flipping it open. “Hello?”</p><p>“Sammy?” It was John. “We got a job in Des Moines. It’s a witch.”</p><p>Sam swore under his breath. “Dad, if he—”</p><p>“Dean already got the feather.” John sighed. “Don’t see any point in lying to you, so I’ll tell you it hurt him. Badly.”</p><p>Sam almost swore again. “Dad—”</p><p>“Dean took care of him. I don’t know what he did exactly, but he got the angel calmed down.”</p><p>“Of <em>course</em> he seemed calm to you, Dad!” Sam shouted. “He’s <em>terrified. </em>He probably thought you were going to punish him for reacting!”</p><p>John sighed, somewhere between irritated and tired. “I know you think Dean is a mindless soldier who does whatever I say like a robot, but your brother is a lot more like you than you give him credit for. I’m sure he treated the angel just fine.”</p><p>Sam opened and closed his mouth wordlessly, struggling to find what he wanted to say. “Dean is—You don’t—”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” John interrupted, his voice hard and to the point. “It’s done. You can’t undo it, and yelling at me doesn’t change anything. Just get back here and see for yourself that he’s fine.”</p><p>Sam opened his mouth to argue, but as angry as he was, he wasn’t so angry he couldn’t see the logic in what his father was saying. It <em>was </em>done, and yelling <em>wouldn’t </em>change anything.</p><p>“Just stay away from him. Both of you.” Sam wedged the phone between his head and shoulder, and then he shoved the keys into the ignition and started the engine. “I’ll be home in an hour.”</p><p>“Was Ray able to help you at all?” John asked, and he actually sounded like he cared.</p><p>“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sam muttered, pulling the phone away from his ear and snapping it shut. He threw it onto the passenger seat and put the car in reverse, pulling out of his parking spot.</p><p>
  <em>I can’t believe them. I can’t even leave for two and a half hours. </em>
</p><p>He pulled onto the road and started toward the interstate, turning up the radio and trying not to lose himself to angry thoughts. Hopefully, whatever plucking a feather had done to Castiel’s mental state wasn’t too terrible, and Sam would be able to repair the damage quickly.</p><p>Hopefully.</p>
<hr/><p>Dean threw his hands up in frustration. “Just let me grab a freakin’ feather!”</p><p>Castiel backed further into the corner of the garage—if that was even physically possible—and hissed. He actually hissed, lips pulled back and teeth bared, like he was some kind of feral cat instead of an angel.</p><p>“You’ve got, like, three thousand of them. I just need one.” For the hundredth time, Dean considered just tearing one out and being done with it. “Come on, Cas.”</p><p>Castiel hissed again, but he made himself smaller. As aggressive as it was to hiss and snarl, Castiel was still very clearly terrified of what Dean was trying to do, and it was that fact that gave Dean pause.</p><p>“Look.” Dean heaved a sigh and rubbed his forehead, wondering where Sam got his patience from. “We need your feather for a hunt we’re working. Okay?”</p><p>Castiel stopped hissing for a moment and looked at Dean, cocking his head to one side. He squinted at Dean, still curled in an impossibly small ball in the corner.</p><p><em>Maybe that’s what Sam does. </em>Dean debated with himself for a moment, and then he slowly lowered himself to the floor and sat cross-legged.</p><p>Castiel tilted his head a little further, his expression curious.</p><p>Dean pointed to Castiel’s wings and explained. “If we take one of your feathers, there’s a spell we can use to track a witch. It’ll make our hunt go a lot faster if we have something to tell us when we’re close to the witch.”</p><p>Castiel looked down at the cement, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. He turned his head slightly and looked at his wings, and then he looked back down at the concrete. He shifted a little, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, and the deep lines drawn on his face said he was conflicted.</p><p>“Come on, Cas.” Dean tried to make his voice less demanding and more coaxing. “People are dying, man.”</p><p>Castiel looked up at that, surprise registering on his features. He bit his lip and looked down again, struggling with the information Dean had given him.</p><p><em>Huh. </em>Dean hadn’t expected an angel to care much about humans dying. Not that Castiel was a regular angel, but Dean had only expected Castiel’s trauma to impact a few select pieces of his life. For example, when Castiel was feeling better, Dean expected Castiel might be a bit grateful. Castiel might escape and, in the future, not attack their compound. But as far as Castiel caring about <em>all </em>humans? Because of a couple hunters patching him up? No.</p><p>But Castiel seemed genuinely bothered by the fact that humans were dying. He seemed to be truly struggling with the decision to give up one of his feathers. Dean wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.</p><p>Before Dean had any more time to think about Castiel’s odd reaction, Castiel crept forward a little and stretched out his wings. He looked at Dean for a moment, and then he screwed his eyes shut and covered his head, waiting for whatever Dean would do.</p><p>Dean blinked in surprise and slowly uncrossed his legs, standing up and walking over to the cowering angel. He put one hand on Castiel’s left wing and grabbed a feather with the other hand, a little unnerved by the way Castiel was clutching his own head. Still, Dean had a job to do, so he gave the feather a hard yank, making sure to pull as straight as possible to reduce pain.</p><p>It didn’t matter. Castiel <em>screamed.</em></p><p>“Woah.” Dean was stuck for a moment, processing the fact that he had hurt Castiel much more than he expected, and then he jumped into action. “Let me see it, Cas.”</p><p>Castiel didn’t respond to the demand, pressing his forehead to the ground and sucking down a lungful of air before screaming it back out.</p><p>Dean looked at the place where he had pulled the feather out and saw a bluish white light coming from the hole. He put his hand over it and pressed down, treating the light like blood and trying to clot the flow.</p><p>“Take a deep breath, Cas.” Dean leaned back slightly, trying to get a look at Castiel’s face. “Come on, buddy. Take a deep breath for me.”</p><p>Castiel lifted his head and took a deep, shuddering breath. He looked at Dean with tears in his eyes, but he didn’t look afraid. He just looked like he was struggling with the pain he was in.</p><p>“You did great, Cas. This is gonna help us save people.”</p><p>Castiel nodded, screwing his eyes shut and dropping his head to the cement again.</p><p>Dean opened his mouth with more words of encouragement on his tongue, but he was cut off by the door to the house flying open.</p><p>“What happened?” John demanded, standing in the doorway with an angel blade in hand. “I heard screaming.”</p><p>“It’s okay, Dad.” Dean glanced down and saw Castiel staring at John in terror. “It wasn’t me.” He kept his hand on Castiel’s wing, hoping his efforts were doing something to ease the pain. “Apparently, plucking feathers is pretty painful.”</p><p>John squinted suspiciously and crossed the garage, coming to a stop in front of Castiel and giving him a hard onceover. He frowned slightly, but whatever he was thinking, he kept to himself.</p><p>Castiel cowered, a sheen of sweat soaking his brow, blue eyes wide and zeroed in on the blade in John’s hand.</p><p>“Easy, angel.” John stared at Castiel a moment more, and then he turned to Dean and extended his empty hand. “Feather?”</p><p>Dean handed it over.</p><p>“I’ll get started on the spell.” John gave Castiel another long look and then turned around, walking back into the house and shutting the door behind him.</p><p>Dean took a few seconds to wonder what John was thinking, but then he was right back on task. He lifted his hand off the hole in Castiel’s wing and immediately saw light was still coming out. He covered the wound again and then, after double-checking to make sure John was gone, he started to run his fingers through Castiel’s feathers.</p><p>Castiel turned to look up at Dean, blinking in surprise.</p><p>Dean rolled his eyes and tried to downplay it. “This doesn’t mean anything, got it? I’m just trying to make you feel better.”</p><p>Castiel blinked a few more times and slowly nodded his head, stretching his wing out a little to give Dean more access.</p><p>Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, but he didn’t stop running his fingers through Castiel’s feathers.</p><p>“If anyone asks, this never happened. Got it?”</p><p>Castiel nodded seriously.</p><p>Dean grumbled a few choice words under his breath and continued to run his hand over Castiel’s wing, massaging and rubbing the feathers and skin. He was surprised by how soft they were; they felt completely different when they weren’t soaking wet and slimy with Dawn dish soap. It was actually kind of nice.</p><p>Castiel must have found it nice, too, because he relaxed a little more with every minute that passed. Before too long, Dean could hear a low rumble rising from the corner Castiel was still wedged into. Minutes passed, and Castiel’s eyelids started to droop. Then his shoulders loosened, and then his head slowly lowered onto the cement.</p><p>Dean smiled to himself and stopped massaging Castiel’s wing. “Don’t fall asleep, Cas. You’ll wake up with all kinds of aches and pains if you sleep in a corner.” He slowly lifted his other hand from the hole in Castiel’s wing, relieved to find the light of Castiel’s grace was no longer coming out. “If you wanna take a nap, go lay on your mattress.”</p><p>Castiel shook his head slightly and sat up straight, reaching his arms over his head and stretching. He uttered a small noise of content, and then cautiously crawled forward a few paces, giving his wings some room to stretch, too.</p><p>Dean watched as Castiel eased himself into a more comfortable position, and he realized he actually kind of liked the angel. Not that he had <em>dis</em>liked Castiel before, he just didn’t trust him. Which was to be expected, given that Dean was a hunter and his only other interaction with an angel had ended with him in a three-day coma.</p><p><em>Don’t forget how powerful they are. If Cas had more of his grace, he’d be nearly unstoppable, no matter how traumatized he is. </em>In fact, the trauma made things worse. If Castiel were to lash out at full or even half strength, whoever triggered him would be dead. <em>I have to remember I’m a hunter first. </em></p><p>Castiel cocked his head to the side and gave Dean a questioning look, as if he could sense Dean was thinking about him. He blinked a few times, and then his face twisted up in confusion.</p><p>Dean huffed out a chuckle and reached out, tousling Castiel’s hair. “Don’t worry about it.” Dean started walking toward the door that led into the house. “I’m gonna help Dad get ready for the hunt. You just stay out here and stay out of trouble.”</p><p>Castiel nodded a few times and shifted into a sitting position, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.</p><p>Dean put his hand on the doorknob and stopped, looking back at Castiel with a weird combination of guilt and fondness in his gut. “I guess it gets pretty boring out here, huh?”</p><p>Castiel didn’t do anything at first, just staring at Dean with his owlish eyes, but then he nodded his head.</p><p>Dean sighed. “Fine. I’ll bring you some books or something. Alright?”</p><p>Castiel blinked and then nodded again, looking confused but somewhat hopeful.</p><p>Dean ran a hand through his hair and turned the doorknob, letting himself inside. He shut the door behind him and muttered a curse under his breath.</p><p><em>I’m a hunter first, </em>he reminded himself. <em>I’m a hunter first.</em></p><p>And then he went to find something for Castiel to do.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the delay with this chapter. I've been working on my book (I'm hoping to publish it in 2021) so Haven got a little left behind.</p><p>WARNING: This chapter contains a brief description of Castiel's gang rape.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John hated hunting with Sam and Dean.</p><p>Not all of it, of course. For example, he didn’t hate the way Sam rambled on about some insignificant detail he had discovered while researching. He didn’t hate the long drives together, or the way Dean sang along with the radio, or the fact that they had to stop every hour so the boys could switch seats and stretch their legs. He didn’t hate the look of pride on their faces when they got something right, and he didn’t hate the way they all had each other’s backs. In fact, John enjoyed those parts of hunting.</p><p>No, what John hated was the terror. He hated the way his heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest during every chase. He hated the sick twist in his gut when the boys weren’t where he could see them. He hated the sensation of the floor dropping out beneath him when a gun fired and he didn’t know why.</p><p>Needless to say, when Sam called Asa Fox and learned that the nest of vampires they were after was larger than any they had hunted before, John started to get an uneasy feeling that only worsened the closer they got to Sterling, Colorado. On top of that, John had to leave Ellen, Jo, and Bobby in charge of the angel, and that had him worried, too.</p><p>Honestly, John was amazed he hadn’t had a heart attack by now.</p><p>
  <em>You trained them for this. They know what they’re doing.</em>
</p><p>That was what John told himself as they approached the dilapidated manor where the vampires were supposedly hiding, the noonday sun beating down on their backs. Hopefully, they had been quick enough that the vampires hadn’t caught wind of their presence in town.</p><p>John took a brief moment to look at Dean on his right and Sam on his left, and then he looked back at the house.</p><p>
  <em>They need you focused on the hunt. The best way to help them is to keep your head in the game and take out as many vampires as possible.</em>
</p><p>Dean tapped John on the shoulder and then gestured toward the corner of the house with his machete. He mouthed the words, ‘going around back,’ and then he started walking around the house.</p><p>Sam quickly walked behind John and started to follow Dean, turning to give John a quick thumbs up and a smile.</p><p>John returned the hand gesture and then put his attention back on the two-story house in front of him. There was a big porch, but it was completely empty except for a wooden swing, so if the vampires hadn’t already split town, they were inside.</p><p>
  <em>Sleeping, probably.</em>
</p><p>That was, after all, why the Winchesters had chosen to attack during the day.</p><p>John heaved a sigh and pulled his machete from the sheath on his hip, slowly climbing the steps to the front door. The wood creaked under his boots, but it was too quiet to cause any harm. Still, John kept his footsteps cautious as he approached, a calloused hand slowly turning the doorknob and pushing the door inward.</p><p>John looked to the left, but there was only a coat rack. He looked ahead and saw a stairway beside a corridor that led deeper into the house. He looked to the right and saw a living room with a man sleeping on the couch.</p><p>John took a breath to calm his racing heart—<em>they’re fine, don’t think about them, they know what they’re doing, you trained them</em>—and he slowly crept into the living room.</p><p>Immediately, he saw what Asa had seen during his visit. Bookshelves against the wall to the left had dustless books on them, and the piano to the right of him was in an equally clean state. The carpet, while old and dingy, had been vacuumed recently, and even though the house was old and broken down, the pictures hanging on the walls were new.</p><p>
  <em>They weren’t just crashing here temporarily. They built a life here.</em>
</p><p>No wonder the civilian disappearances had gone back so far. It was incredible that hunters hadn’t found them sooner, but John supposed that was why they had hunted so infrequently.</p><p>John put the thoughts aside as he walked up to the couch, raising his machete and trying to get a good angle on the sleeping vampire’s neck. He knew Sam wanted to interrogate the bloodsuckers about the angel, but a vampire sleeping on a couch didn’t have any kind of rank or status, meaning any information it could offer was probably not that important.</p><p>
  <em>We can keep a couple alive to talk, but we shouldn’t push our luck. Especially since we don’t know how many there are.</em>
</p><p>John brought the machete down in a single, smooth swing, but the blade only managed to get halfway through. Immediately awake, the vampire jerked upright and clutched at its throat, mouth open wide in a silent scream. John wrenched the blade out of the vampire’s neck and swung from the opposite direction, cutting clean through and dropping the head to the floor.</p><p>
  <em>That’s one.</em>
</p><p>John turned around and walked back toward the front door, stopping at the bottom of the stairway and looking down the hall beside it.</p><p>
  <em>Where are they?</em>
</p><p>He quickly shut down his own train of thought.</p><p>
  <em>They can handle themselves. It’s good that you didn’t hear them come in—that means the vampires didn’t hear them, either.</em>
</p><p>John decided the boys could handle whatever was down the hall, and he started up the creaking staircase, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of danger.</p><p>He had barely gotten halfway up when a piercing whine split the air.</p><p>John allowed himself the briefest moment to worry about Sam and Dean, and then he jogged up the rest of the stairs, looking left and right for the vampires who had no doubt been awakened by the alarm.</p><p>
  <em>I guess we’re doing this the quick and messy way.</em>
</p><p>John was still finishing the thought when doors in the hall to both his right and left swung open. He swore under his breath and backed down the stairs, pulling his gun from his hip.</p><p>
  <em>It’s better if they’re coming from one direction.</em>
</p><p>He aimed his weapon at the top of the steps, waiting to see if the vampires would dare to enter his line of fire. Downstairs, a gun went off, and John felt that familiar sensation of the floor dropping from beneath his feet.</p><p>
  <em>They’re fine. They’re fine. They’re fine.</em>
</p><p>John saw a split second of movement and ducked, gunfire sounding as a vampire from the left-hand hall tried to shoot him.</p><p>John swore again, racking his brain for a good approach. If he tried to stick his head around the corner and shoot on either side, the vampires in the opposite direction would shoot him. He could wait until they poked their heads around the corner to shoot, but he only had a fifty percent chance of aiming at the right side.</p><p>
  <em>Come on, man. Think.</em>
</p><p>John took a breath and started up the stairs, his machete in one hand and his gun in the other. He paused with just a few steps to go, and after another breath, he moved. He took the last two steps while facing right, and then he simultaneously fired the gun and swung his machete out behind him. It took a split second, and he was back down the stairs before the vampire’s body hit the floor. As he suspected, the machete, while unable to hit anything, kept the vampires distracted enough that they didn’t shoot him.</p><p><em>Okay. I got one, and there were two more with her. </em>But the machete trick only worked once. All they had to do was move away from the steps, and they would be able to shoot him no problem. <em>Not to mention, I have no idea how many vampires were behind me or what other kind of weapons they might have.</em></p><p>John took a breath and glanced behind himself, wondering where Sam and Dean were.</p><p><em>They haven’t met up with me, so they’re either busy or something went wrong. </em>He thought back to the gunshot he had heard. <em>I know at least some of the vampires have guns, so that could have been—</em></p><p>No. He couldn’t think that way. He had to focus.</p><p>John shook his head and crouched down, slowly moving back up the stairs. <em>If I come at them from a lower angle, they might not have enough time to aim. </em>He pressed himself back against the wall to the right, wanting to see how many vampires had been behind him before. He cocked his gun and continued crawling up the stairs, once again taking a moment to pause before attacking.</p><p>He all but jumped to the top of the stairs, his lower body on the steps while his torso lay flat on the second story floor. He fired his gun and immediately rolled halfway down the steps, hearing another body collapse along with a gunshot.</p><p>
  <em>There were only two on that side, and I got one, so I’m down to three.</em>
</p><p>There was another gunshot from downstairs, and John had to force himself not to speculate as to what might have been happening. He shoved aside all thoughts of his children and put all of his energy into figuring out how to kill the last three bloodsuckers.</p><p><em>If I can kill the one on the left, the two on the right will be easy. </em>But how to kill that one without being shot by the other two? <em>I might have to just chance it.</em></p><p>John crept up the stairs facing left, his back rubbing against the railing. He took a few breaths to steady himself, heart hammering from the adrenaline, and aimed where he thought the vampire would be. He rushed up the last couple stairs and fired, hearing two gunshots as he tried to retreat down the stairs. He stumbled and fell into the opposite wall, feeling like someone had kicked him in his right kidney.</p><p>Hard.</p><p>He dropped to one knee and tried to catch his breath, keeping his eyes on the top of the steps. Thankfully, while the pressure and force of a kick was there, the pain that should have come with the kick was not.</p><p>John put his machete down on the step and reached back to feel the wound, muttering curses when his fingers came away red and wet. His back, side, and abdomen were caught somewhere between numbness and a dull ache, the very center of the wound on both the back and front gradually beginning to sting and burn.</p><p>
  <em>Only two more. Just get it done.</em>
</p><p>John pressed himself against the left wall and started to creep back up the stairs, leaving his machete behind and putting both hands on his gun. He sucked in a breath, moved until he could see one of the vampires, and fired. He heard a gunshot as he ducked back down the stairs, panting from the exertion and knowing he was losing blood.</p><p>
  <em>Gotta finish her off.</em>
</p><p>He spared a moment to catch his breath and then jumped to the top of the steps, firing in unison with the last vampire. He dodged back down the stairs, hearing the bullet whiz by his ear, and the window at the end of the hall shattered.</p><p>
  <em>Finally. Got them all.</em>
</p><p>John barely took a moment to catch his breath, walking into the hallway and approaching the first of the five bodies. He knew the dead man’s blood coating the bullets would keep the vampires paralyzed, but he didn’t like to take chances, so he grabbed the guns from the floor one by one. It took him less than a minute, and once the guns were well out of the vampires’ reach, John started down the stairs with one priority in mind.</p><p>“Sam!” He called, bending over with some difficulty to grab his machete. “Dean!”</p><p>“We’re okay, Dad!” It was Sam.</p><p><em>Oh, thank God. </em>John put his gun in its holster but held onto his machete, his free hand finding its way to the hole in his abdomen. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized the bullet had gone clean through.</p><p>“Did you get them all?” John walked around the banister and started down the hallway toward what looked like a kitchen on the right.</p><p>“I think so,” Sam replied, standing beside a fridge with blood splattered over it.</p><p>“Oh, we definitely got them all,” Dean confirmed from somewhere John couldn’t see.</p><p>John took a few more steps, and then he was in the kitchen, where it looked like most of the conflict had gone down. There were three headless bodies on the floor, and there was a dent in the wall to the right where someone had clearly been slammed.</p><p>Dean was standing over one of the corpses, dusting his hands off with a satisfied grin. He looked at John and opened his mouth to speak, freezing immediately. “Dad! What happened?”</p><p>John sighed and glanced down at himself, frustrated by the pain as well as the fact that he had managed to get himself shot. “It’s nothing major, but I need to get this bleeding stopped.” He pressed his lips together and gave his boys a tight smile. “I’m going to need your help wrapping it up, and then I’m going to the hospital. You two can stay here and question the vampires.”</p><p>Sam shook his head immediately. “No way, Dad. You’re not driving yourself to the hospital with a bullet hole in you.”</p><p>John gave Sam a hard look, vaguely aware of blood trickling through his fingers. “You want to get information. If that dead man’s blood wears off while we’re taking me to the hospital, we’re screwed.”</p><p>Sam didn’t seem convinced. “One of us can drive you, and one of us can stay here and keep an eye on things.”</p><p>John was shaking his head before Sam could finish. “Absolutely not. I don’t let either of you hunt without me; you think I’m going to leave one of you alone with a nest of vampires?”</p><p>“They’re <em>paralyzed,</em>” Sam insisted, raising his voice.</p><p>“For now.” John glanced down at his wound, knowing he had to get the bleeding stopped, and he decided to end the argument the way he always ended conflict between him and Sam. “Dean.”</p><p>Dean stood at attention. “Yes, sir?”</p><p>“Help me get this bandaged, and then stay with your brother and interrogate these vampires.”</p><p>Dean nodded once. “Yes, sir.” He immediately crossed the kitchen and passed John, heading outside to the Impala for the first aid kit.</p><p>John looked at Sam, and despite having no intention of changing his mind, he tried to calm the waters. “I’ll be fine, Sammy.”</p><p>Sam clenched his jaw, fighting with his anger for a moment before heaving a defeated sigh. “Fine.” He shook his head. “I still say you’re being ridiculous.”</p><p>John didn’t say anything to that. Maybe he was being ridiculous, but he was keeping his boys safe. Still, he never enjoyed being at odds with Sam. He could only hope that Sam would let it go once he realized John was fine.</p><p>“How many were there?” John asked, looking down at his wound again.</p><p>“Six.” Sam gestured to the floor. “We killed these three, and then another two in the dining room.” He indicated the room through an open archway in the kitchen. “We shot the one down the hall under the stairs.”</p><p>John frowned slightly, confused. “I thought you wanted to interrogate them.”</p><p>Sam smiled lightly. “We heard you filling the ones upstairs with lead and figured the fewer we left alive, the better.”</p><p>John nodded a few times, proud of the logic. “You have any idea what you’re hoping to get from them?”</p><p>Sam shrugged his shoulders and looked at the nearby corpses, a contemplative expression on his face. “I don’t know for sure.” He squinted at the bodies. “I know they had Castiel before Asa found him, but I don’t know if they’re the ones who captured him. I also don’t know if they were the ones who put the communication spell on him.” He shook his head and looked back at John. “My main objective is to get closer to someone who can break the communication spell. I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”</p><p>John couldn’t help but smile a little at that. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Sam getting chummy with an angel, but the determination in Sam’s hazel eyes filled him with pride. One way or another, regardless of what anyone said or did, Sam was going to get his answers.</p><p>John only hoped Sam could stomach whatever lay at the end of his path.</p><hr/><p>Sam asked the same questions. Over and over, for each vampire he interrogated, he asked the same questions to see if their stories lined up. Some questions he couldn’t ask, no matter how much he wanted to, because they would reveal a care for Castiel that wouldn’t get him anywhere. Some questions were pointless, just little tricks to get the vampires talking. Some questions led to new questions of their own, and some questions fizzled out ineffectively. But Sam asked the same questions. He asked them for hours, determined to find something that would help Castiel.</p><p>“You’re the last one.” Sam dipped his knife into the jar of dead man’s blood while he spoke to the leader of the vampires. “Your mate is dead.” He approached the man tied to the chair in the middle of the room. “Your nest is dead.” He gestured to the eleven headless bodies strewn around them. “You’re <em>about </em>to be dead.” He twirled the blade in his hand. “And I want answers.”</p><p>Growling, the vampire pulled against the ropes that kept him bound, rage burning in his dark brown eyes.</p><p>Sam stared that rage down with cool calculation. “Where did you find the angel?”</p><p>“Why?” the vampire snapped, bleeding sluggishly from the bullet wound in his chest. “What does it matter where the angel came from?”</p><p>Sam had a perfect answer, one that would make him seem just as heartless as the vampire probably thought he was, but answering questions was for people tied to chairs, which Sam was not.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter why. What matters is that you tell me, right now, where you found the angel.” He pressed the tip of his knife against the vampire’s thigh. “You and your pack had a good run, but if three hunters took you down in less than twenty minutes, there’s no way you beat an angel by yourselves.”</p><p>“Why should I help you?” Gritting his teeth, the vampire searched Sam’s eyes. “You’re gonna kill me no matter what I say.”</p><p>Sam didn’t even hesitate. “You’re right. You’re dead either way.” He pushed the blade a little, digging the tip into the vampire’s skin. “But if you make this difficult, I swear, I’ll carve you up, piece by piece, and save the decapitation for whatever’s left of you once I turn you into mincemeat.”</p><p>Seconds passed, and the vampire seemed to be considering the idea of talking. Sam decided to encourage him, and with an ‘I told you so’ sort of look, he thrust the knife into the vampire’s leg.</p><p>“Ah!” Throwing his head back, the vampire sucked air between his teeth and curled his fingers around the arms of the chair. “Ah…” He took a moment to catch his breath, and despite the pain, his lips curled into a smirk. “You want to know so badly? Fine. It’s no skin off my nose.”</p><p>Sam deadpanned. “Then start talking.”</p><p>The vampire wet his bloody lips. “We found him, alright? Couple miles outside of town.”</p><p>Sam narrowed his eyes. “This <em>house </em>is a couple miles outside of town. Be more specific.” He tapped the hilt of the knife. “What was it like where you found him? <em>How </em>did you find him?”</p><p>The vampire didn’t say anything right away, and Sam twisted the blade as hard as he could.</p><p>“Okay! Okay!” The vampire sucked down a lungful of air and shook his head. “I don’t know exactly where he was, alright? He was in the woods north of here.” He swallowed hard, panting slightly. “We followed the scent of blood and found him.”</p><p>Sam had heard similar stories from the other vampires, so he accepted the answer as truth and moved on. “He was already injured, then?”</p><p>“Of <em>course </em>he was,” the vampire snarled. “We don’t screw with angels. We’re not stupid.”</p><p>“But you screwed with this one.” Sam pulled the knife from the vampire’s leg and tossed it from hand to hand, a curious lilt to his voice. “Why? Just because you had the opportunity?”</p><p>Once again, the vampire hesitated to answer, and Sam thrust the blade into the undamaged leg. The vampire threw his head back and let out a scream, screwing his eyes shut.</p><p>“We—we wanted to try angel blood, alright?”</p><p>Sam shook his head and grasped the hilt of his weapon, looking as if he were about to twist it again. “I think you’re lying.” Because he had heard different from the other vampires. “Why don’t you try again?”</p><p>For a moment, it looked like the vampire was going to keep quiet, but then he glanced around at the decapitated bodies of his nestmates. He took a breath and slowly let it out, a cold glaze forming in his eyes. “He killed my sister and her nest.” He shifted in the chair, pulling futilely against the ropes. “He said it was a warning, and that if we didn’t stop killing humans, he would be back for the rest of us.” His lips pulled up in a sneer. “Do you know how long we were choking down animal blood just to stay off his radar?”</p><p>“You poor baby,” Sam intoned.</p><p>Still, the story matched what the other vampires had said, and Sam recalled reports of cattle mutilations in between some of the most recent abductions. So, at least for the time being, the vampire was telling the truth.</p><p>“You abducted a girl two and a half months ago.” Sam watched the vampire’s face for any clues, one hand still lingering on the knife. “So, when did you find the angel?”</p><p>“Three days before we took the girl,” the vampire muttered, his eyes briefly wandering back to his nestmates on the floor.</p><p>Sam frowned slightly. “You had angel blood. Why take the girl?”</p><p>“Why do you think?” the vampire snapped back, glaring.</p><p>Sam pulled the knife out of the vampire’s leg and walked over to the piano, dipping the blade in the jar of dead man’s blood.</p><p>“Okay, okay! Geeze!” The vampire fought with himself for a moment, and then he surrendered. “We took the girl to screw with the angel.” He muttered the next part, almost as if he hoped Sam wouldn’t hear. “We killed her in front of him.”</p><p>Sam was torn between stabbing the vampire to punish him for murder and not stabbing him to reward him for honesty. In the end, he decided to stick to the script and asked another one of his questions.</p><p>“Where did you keep the angel?”</p><p>The vampire wet his lips. “You saw the big shed out back?”</p><p>Sam nodded once.</p><p>“We kept the angel in there.” The vampire glanced at his dead nestmates again and then looked back at Sam. “We kept all of our victims in there.”</p><p>Sam walked back over to the chair, blood dripping from the tip of his knife. “Who had the angel before you?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” the vampire muttered.</p><p>Sam lifted the knife and plunged it into the vampire’s arm.</p><p>“Ah!” The vampire jerked forward, pulling against his bonds. “I swear, I don’t know! We just found him, okay? He came here maybe, I don’t know—” The vampire shook his head, struggling to catch his breath. “It was before Thanksgiving. After that, we didn’t see him until we found him in the woods.”</p><p>Sam squinted, suspicion dancing in his hazel eyes, but he didn’t inflict any more pain. He did some quick math in his head and realized that eight months earlier, Castiel had been living as angels normally do.</p><p>
  <em>If we encountered each other just eight months ago, we would have been enemies.</em>
</p><p>Sam watched the vampire for a moment more, bloody fingers curled around the hilt of his blade. He contemplated the information he had gathered, and then he decided to move on to one of his more important questions.</p><p>“What do you know about the spell that keeps him from talk—”</p><p>“Sam.”</p><p>
  <em>Uh oh.</em>
</p><p>Sam had honestly forgotten Dean was looking for evidence in the rest of the house, but it was brought right back to the front of his mind when he heard utter repulsion in Dean’s voice.</p><p>
  <em>This can’t be good.</em>
</p><p>Sam turned around to face his brother, concern creasing his brow. “Yeah?”</p><p>“You need to see this.”</p><p>Sam frowned, and while he had no idea what Dean could have been talking about, he walked to the piano and stuck his knife in the jar of dead man’s blood. “Lead the way,” he said, stepping out of the living room.</p><p>Dean turned around and headed down the hall toward the kitchen where they had fought the vampires. Sam followed dutifully, floorboards creaking as he made his way down the corridor.</p><p>Dean got to the kitchen and turned left, heading down another short hallway past a laundry room of some sort. “It’s like an editing suite or something.”</p><p><em>Okay? </em>That didn’t really tell Sam anything relevant, so he tried to guess what might have gotten Dean so upset. “Did you find videos of their victims?” Because that would actually be helpful; something the police could use to definitively close the missing persons cases.</p><p>Dean snorted bitterly, gesturing to the darkened doorway on his right.</p><p>Sam watched Dean carefully, his concern steadily increasing, and then he walked into the room. It was fairly dark, a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, and there must have been seven or more computer screens set up on the desks that lined the walls.</p><p>Not that Sam really noticed. Sam was too busy staring at the middle screen with wide eyes and a sick, churning sensation in his gut.</p><p>
  <em>Castiel?</em>
</p><p>It was definitely Castiel, frozen in a moment the vampires had evidently wanted to remember. He was completely naked, chains from the ceiling wrapped around his wings and torso and arms. He was covered in blood and bruises, even more than when John brought him home, and the vampires were descending on him without mercy.</p><p>Sam stepped closer to the computer, his movements slow and distracted, like he was lost in a daze. He grabbed the mouse and moved the cursor over the screen, sliding it down to the play button and clicking.</p><p>
  <em>“Malle! Malle, shatsh!”</em>
</p><p>One of the male vampires—the one Sam currently had tied to a chair in the living room—knelt behind Castiel, grasping the chains around his wings for leverage and thrusting into him violently. Two male vampires stood on either side of Castiel and played tug of war with the chains wrapped around his arms, jerking him from side to side so hard Sam thought his shoulders would pop out of their sockets. One of the females crouched on the floor in front of Castiel, her fangs lodged in his neck as she devoured his blood.</p><p>Sam stared at the footage, and as he did, the sensation of nausea started to fade, replaced by a throbbing, burning heat. It traveled through him light lightning, tightening the muscles in his chest and blurring his vision and curling his hands into trembling fists. He clenched his jaw, feeling his pulse in his throat as his heart started to hammer against the inside of his ribcage.</p><p>“I don’t know how many there are. I found this and came to get you right away.”</p><p>
  <em>“Shtash! Shtash malle! Ma—”</em>
</p><p>One of the female vampires shoved a dildo into Castiel’s mouth, effectively cutting him off. Castiel gagged and tried to move his head back, but the chains kept him firmly in place.</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t worry, angel. You’ll start to like it soon enough.”</em>
</p><p>Sam turned on his heel and strode out of the room, the walls and floors disappearing as he experienced the most intense tunnel vision he had ever known. He didn’t process anything—didn’t <em>see </em>anything—until he was back in the living room. He walked past the piano, seamlessly pulling the knife from the jar of blood, and with a shaking hand, he sank the blade into the vampire’s gut.</p><p>“Ahh!”</p><p>Sam grabbed a fistful of the vampire’s hair and pulled him close, snarling a new kind of question through his teeth. “How does that feel? Huh?” He tore the knife out and plunged it back in. “How does that feel?”</p><p>“Stop!” the vampire shouted, his legs curling up toward his stomach protectively. “Stop!”</p><p>Sam’s lips pulled back as he growled out a low, “Don’t worry, vampire. You’ll start to like it soon enough.” He pulled the blade out and thrust it in again.</p><p>“Sam.”</p><p>“That’s how it goes, right?” Sam felt like he had run a marathon, his entire body burning. “Over and over, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much you beg?” He pulled the knife out and stabbed the vampire again, and then again, and then again—</p><p>“Sam, stop.”</p><p>—and again, and again, and again—</p><p>“Sam!”</p><p>Sam wasn’t even aware that Dean was touching him until he was physically ripped away from the vampire and shoved toward the front door.</p><p>“Outside. Now.” Dean gripped Sam’s shirt and continued to push him toward the exit. “Now!”</p><p>Sam staggered out into the early evening and tore himself away from Dean, turning to face his brother with a shouted, “What?”</p><p>Dean stared him down coolly, holding his hands up in a ‘down boy’ gesture. “You need to step back.”</p><p>“Did you see what he did?” Sam felt stupid for asking the question, but the rage in his chest didn’t care. “Did you see what he did?”</p><p>“He’s a monster, Sam.” Dean was entirely too calm, entirely too sane. “He did what monsters do.”</p><p>“You’re defending him?” Sam almost screamed, the humid, summer air doing nothing to ease the fire in his veins.</p><p>Dean looked at Sam in disgust. “No, I’m not defending him. But you—”</p><p>“He’s getting what he deserves!” Sam sucked down a lungful of air; the hatred was <em>choking </em>him. “He’s getting <em>less </em>than he deserves!”</p><p>“<em>You </em>are not the person to be dishing that out!” Dean shot back, his composure finally slipping. “You’re torturing him, Sam.”</p><p>“So?” Sam asked, incredulous.</p><p>“So you don’t do that!” Dean glared, green eyes blazing. “I swear, Sam, if this angel starts changing you, I’ll kill him myself.”</p><p>Sam ran his hands through his hair, unable to fathom how Dean, of all people, was seeing a problem with the situation. “You’re going to kill Castiel because I’m stabbing a <em>monster?</em>”</p><p>Dean didn’t back down. He didn’t even come close. “Last week, Dad brought home a tortured monster, and you gave him a shower and first aid. Now you’re standing in front of a tortured monster, and you’re the one tearing into him!”</p><p>Sam pointed to the house. “He is a <em>rapist </em>and a <em>murderer!</em>”</p><p>“And you know for a fact Castiel isn’t?” Dean spread his arms, inviting an argument. “You have no idea what he did before he was de-grace-ified. He could have killed twice as many people as the vampire. He could have killed hundreds!”</p><p>Sam didn’t have a good argument to counter that, and while a small portion of his brain said Dean was on to something, the still enraged part of his brain said Dean was dead wrong. “I don’t understand why you have a problem with this. You and Dad—”</p><p>“Exactly, Sam! Me and Dad!” Dean stopped, and he stared at Sam with something like concern in his eyes. “You’re acting like us. You’re not acting like you.”</p><p>Sam stopped, too, trying to catch his breath and running out of things to say. “I…” He shook his head, clenching his fists at his sides. “I don’t care. Let me do this.”</p><p>“No, Sam.” Dean didn’t even hesitate, and he used the voice he only used when he was pulling the ‘big brother’ card. “I’ll finish the vamp. You wait in the car.”</p><p>Sam stared at Dean for a long moment, his mouth opening and closing as he fought to find what he wanted to say. He could still feel the rage burning through him, and there was nothing in him that wanted to let Dean take over, but there was something else in him that knew Dean wasn’t going to budge.</p><p>“Sammy.” Dean reached out and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder, meeting his eyes with a look that said everything was going to be okay. “Let me handle this.”</p><p>Sam looked down at their feet and wet his lips, struggling with himself for a moment before surrendering. He lifted his eyes to meet Dean’s and uttered a quiet, “Are you going to call the cops?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Dean let go of Sam’s shoulder and jerked his head in the general direction of the house. “I’ll handle everything, and then we’ll go meet Dad at the hospital.”</p><p>Sam swallowed and turned away from the house. “Got it. I’ll bring the car around.” He started walking down the stone driveway toward the road, vaguely aware of stones crunching beneath his boots.</p><p>
  <em>“Malle! Malle, shtash!”</em>
</p><p>Sam could only imagine what Castiel had been saying. He could only imagine the pain, and the violation, and the shame. He could only imagine wanting to tear off his own skin to get rid of the slimy, disgusting, <em>used </em>feelings. He could only imagine living in a body that didn’t fully belong to him anymore.</p><p>Sam remembered the night he had checked on Castiel and found him clawing at his own skin. Had Castiel been trying to get rid of the invisible fangs in his neck? Had he been tearing at phantom tongues and hands? Had he hated the feel of his own skin so much that he just had to do something to change it?</p><p>Then Sam remembered the night Castiel’s screams had interrupted his research. He remembered how Castiel had been so desperate to avoid physical contact that his own wings were held as far away from his body as they could be. He remembered how Castiel had sobbed into his hands, broken and afraid and full of grief.</p><p>Sam put his hands on the hood of the Impala, wondering when he had arrived at the car, and he let out a long sigh. He sucked down a breath and tilted his head back, staring at the sky and praying some answers would fall from the stars.</p><p>
  <em>I’m so sorry, Castiel. </em>
</p><p>Sam felt his anger trickle away, his entire body turning to ash as the flames dissipated. He lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a few deep breaths and trying not to feel like he could be knocked over with a feather.</p><p>It didn’t work.</p><p>Rage had turned into overwhelming defeat. Because Sam wanted to do something—he wanted to make things better—but everything he could do seemed so trite.</p><p>Sam had killed the vampires that had raped Castiel, but what good did it do? Telling Castiel might make him feel safer, but it wouldn’t make him whole again. It might give Castiel a sense of revenge, but it wouldn’t take away the nightmares.</p><p>Sam had patched up the physical wounds left by the torture, but what good did that do? It might have eased the pain, but it wouldn’t take away the scars or the horrors they were a testament to.</p><p>Sam had offered words of comfort, but what good did that do? It might have offered some temporary reassurance, but it wouldn’t last.</p><p>What was current safety to past damage? What was revenge to suffering? What was a bandage to a broken spirit? What was a hand to hold when faced with insurmountable damage?</p><p>Pathetic. Feeble. Useless.</p><p>Sam sank to the ground and pressed his hand over his face, taking a deep breath and trying to dry the tears in his eyes. He shook his head and wiped away the moisture, telling himself to get in the car and drive it back to the vampire nest.</p><p>
  <em>Get it together, Winchester.</em>
</p><p>Sam took a deep breath and let it out. He set his jaw and got to his feet, opening the driver’s side door and getting in. He put both hands on the wheel and felt the faintest flicker of determination.</p><p>Because maybe it <em>was </em>pathetic and feeble and useless, but it was better than nothing, and it was all he had. It was <em>everything </em>he had.</p><p>And Castiel deserved that much.</p><hr/><p>Sam stared at the door to the garage for a long time. He stared while Dean showered away all the vampire blood. He stared while John made himself comfortable on the couch, ready to rest his wound. He stared while the clock ticked in the empty kitchen, every second reminding him that it was after two in the morning and he needed sleep.</p><p>He stared and stared and stared, and then he opened the door.</p><p>Castiel’s head snapped up, blue eyes wide and full of relief. He set down the comic book he had been reading and crawled to the end of the mattress, looking up at Sam with a small smile.</p><p>Sam shut the door behind him and walked over to the mattress, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He rested his hands on his knees and looked at Castiel, swallowing hard. For a moment, he could see the clip of the video that had been burned into his brain, but he quickly cast it aside.</p><p>“We found the vampires,” he finally said.</p><p>Castiel squinted slightly and offered a faint nod, his expression falling somewhere between confused and waiting for clarification.</p><p>“We killed them.” Sam glanced down at his lap, drumming his fingers on his knees. “We, uh… we interrogated them first, and they said you were already in pretty bad shape when they found you. Is that true?”</p><p>Castiel nodded again, watching Sam’s face carefully. He could definitely tell something was off, but he didn’t try to do anything to indicate his own questions.</p><p>Sam wet his lips and nodded. “Okay. Do you think you could tell me what had you before the vampires?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I have a book on Enochian now, so I might be able to translate it.”</p><p>Castiel thought about it for a moment, and then he slowly opened his mouth. “<em>Tsaiga.</em>”</p><p>“Saiga?” Sam asked.</p><p>Castiel shook his head. “<em>Tsaiga,</em>” he repeated, putting emphasis on a ‘T’ at the beginning.</p><p>“<em>Tsaiga?</em>” Sam tried.</p><p>Castiel nodded with an encouraging smile.</p><p>Sam nodded back, hoping he would have luck with the phonetic dictionary. If the word was spelled anything like it sounded, Sam was confident he would be able to piece together a translation.</p><p>Castiel hummed softly and leaned forward, concern creasing his features. He looked at Sam with questioning eyes, searching Sam’s face for any sign of an answer.</p><p>“Everything’s okay,” Sam assured, forcing a weak smile.</p><p>Castiel shook his head and reached out, pointing to the center of Sam’s chest and uttering a humming sound.</p><p>“Am <em>I </em>okay?” Sam pointed to himself, a somewhat dumb expression on his face.</p><p>Castiel dropped his hand and nodded.</p><p>Sam didn’t answer right away—because he really wasn’t okay, and he didn’t want to lie—but then a smile broke out on his face. “I’ll be fine, Castiel. Thank you for asking.”</p><p>Castiel pulled his lower lip between his teeth and chewed nervously, his eyes showing a hesitance to believe what Sam was saying.</p><p>Sam only smiled wider. “I’m really okay. I’m just tired, and I’m a little discouraged that we didn’t get more answers from the vampires. But it’s alright. I’ll get some good sleep tonight, and I’ll figure out what <em>tsaiga </em>are, and I’ll be back on top of things before you know it.”</p><p>Castiel remained hesitant for another second or two, and then he offered a smile.</p><p>Sam shifted, getting his feet beneath himself and standing up. He gestured to the book Castiel had laid aside. “Do you like the comic books Dean gave you?”</p><p>Castiel nodded enthusiastically, his smile growing.</p><p>Sam grinned. “Good.” He turned and walked to the door that led into the house, stopping to give Castiel a little wave. “Goodnight, Castiel.”</p><p>Castiel waved back, and then he turned on his mattress and grabbed his comic book.</p><p>Sam opened the door to the house and went inside, his smile dissolving into a frown. He closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.</p><p>
  <em>It feels wrong to keep secrets from him.</em>
</p><p>But Sam had decided on the drive home that he wouldn’t say anything about the video. It would only serve to humiliate Castiel more, and the only benefit would be that Sam would get something off his chest. Maybe someday, when the trauma wasn’t so raw and fresh, Sam could tell Castiel the truth, but until then, such an act would be selfish.</p><p>Sam sighed and pushed off the door, trudging through the kitchen and dining room and then down the hall that led to his bedroom.</p><p><em>I can’t focus on the video. I have to focus on the progress we’re making. </em>Sam kicked off his shoes and shed his shirt, tumbling into bed with another sigh. <em>We killed the vampires, and once I find out what tsaiga are, we’ll have another lead to follow. Castiel is safe and comfortable, and that’s what I have to focus on. We…</em></p><p>Sam was unconscious before he could finish the thought.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam pointed to the word on the page, feeling a mixture of discouragement and unease as he confirmed for the hundredth time what it meant. “So, apparently, <em>tsaiga </em>means ‘demons.’”</p><p>Dean, who seemed much less perturbed by the idea of demons than Sam, slammed the top of his Coca-Cola bottle down on the edge of the counter to pop the top off. “Demons, huh?” He took a swig of Coke and leaned against the counter. “You sure?”</p><p>Sam gave Dean a disparaging look. “I always double-check before I open my mouth.” He pointed to another part of the same page. “It looks like <em>tsaigen </em>is the singular, ‘demon.’ I’ve seen other Enochian words made plural by adding an ‘A’ or an ‘I-A’ so it makes sense that <em>tsaiga </em>is the plural of <em>tsaigen.</em>” He leaned back in his chair, sliding his hand from the book and resting it on his thigh. “I mean, I can just poke my head into the garage and ask Castiel, but I’m pretty sure it means ‘demons.’”</p><p>Dean was staring at Sam with an arched brow and a look of mild annoyance on his face. “I’m sorry I asked.” He set his Coke down and walked over to the garage door, opening it up and sticking his head into the adjacent room. “Hey, Cas! Does ‘<em>tsaiga</em>’ mean ‘demons?’”</p><p>Sam waited patiently for Castiel to confirm what he already knew, and he soon saw Dean nodding his head and giving the angel a thumbs up. <em>I told you I wasn’t wrong, </em>he thought a bit petulantly.</p><p>Dean came back into the kitchen and shut the door to the garage, walking over to his Coke and taking another drink. “Okay, so some demons had Cas. How do we move forward?”</p><p>“I have no idea.” Sam ran a hand through his hair and looked at the Enochian dictionary, hoping an answer would magically form on one of the pages. “We don’t really have a lot of experience hunting demons.”</p><p>Dean cocked his head to one side, his nose scrunching slightly. “Well, according to Dad, the thing that killed Mom was a demon, so technically, we’ve been hunting demons longer than anything else.”</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes. “The fact that the thing that killed Mom was a demon is the <em>only </em>thing we know about it.” He shook his head. “Man, I have poured over <em>everything </em>Dad has on demons, and we’ve never gotten any closer to killing that thing. And even if we had, what good would that do as far as Castiel is concerned?”</p><p>Dean shrugged his shoulders and took another drink of his Coke. “I don’t know, I’m just saying we’re not completely inexperienced.” He drummed his fingers on the counter, lips pursing as a thoughtful expression creased his features. “We could summon one.”</p><p>Sam snorted his disbelief, his eyebrows arching up to his hairline. “You really think Dad would let us summon a demon?”</p><p>Dean frowned. “Yeah, no, you’re right.” He got that same thoughtful look on his face. “Well, you said you’ve been over all of Dad’s research. We’ll just have to start looking for jobs that sound demonic and connect the dots as we go.”</p><p>Sam tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow. “You think it’ll be that easy?”</p><p>Dean shrugged and took another drink, walking back toward the garage door. “I think it’s a good place to start.” He put his hand on the doorknob and pointed to the door with his drink-holding hand. “Let’s ask Cas what he thinks.”</p><p>Sam blinked, a bit surprised, and after a second of thought, he found he was a bit embarrassed he hadn’t considered asking Castiel sooner. Though, he supposed, that probably had to do with the other two words Sam had deciphered.</p><p>
  <em>“Malle! Malle, shtash!”</em>
</p><p>If Sam had translated correctly, and he was confident he had, then ‘malle’ meant ‘stop’ and ‘shtash’ meant ‘please.’ And Sam couldn’t get that out of his head. He couldn’t stop hearing the frantic begging of someone who had to have known it was completely pointless. He couldn’t stop thinking about how long they must have tortured Castiel, couldn’t stop thinking about how long Castiel held out hope for reprieve, couldn’t stop seeing the video.</p><p>
  <em>“Stop! Stop, please!”</em>
</p><p>“Yo, Sam, you coming?” Dean stood in the doorway to the garage, giving Sam an odd look.</p><p>Sam pushed his darker thoughts aside and nodded, getting to his feet and crossing the kitchen. He followed Dean out into the garage and offered a small wave and a smile to Castiel, who sat on his mattress reading a comic book.</p><p>Castiel hummed curiously and cocked his head to one side, setting his comic book down and looking at the brothers intently.</p><p>“We got some questions, Cas.” Dean sat down cross-legged and rested his Coke on his knee.</p><p>Castiel looked between Sam and Dean, and Sam could see some fear going into his eyes.</p><p>“Just about what happened to you,” Sam clarified, sitting down next to Dean and stretching his legs out in front of himself. “We’re trying to piece together some idea of what happened and how to fix it. That’s all.”</p><p>Castiel wet his lips and cautiously nodded, still looking between the two of them. His fingers curled through the blanket pooled around him, pulling at the fabric with the same trepidation that showed on his face.</p><p>Sam kept his lips turned upward, his faint smile never quite leaving, and he tried to put Castiel at ease. “Let’s start with <em>tsaiga. </em>Were the demons who had you the ones who made it so you can only speak Enochian?”</p><p>Castiel shook his head slightly, blue eyes dropping until he was looking at Sam’s feet rather than his face. He looked almost embarrassed.</p><p>“Can you try to tell us who <em>did </em>put that spell on you?” Dean asked, oblivious to Castiel’s discomfort.</p><p>Castiel stared at Sam’s feet some more, and then his eyes slowly wandered up to Dean’s face. He wet his lips, let out a little sigh, and then looked over his shoulder at his wings. For a moment, he stayed like that, not doing anything, but then he looked back at Sam and Dean. He reached back and ran his fingers through his feathers, looking at the brothers with a combination of fear and shame in his eyes.</p><p>Sam squinted slightly, confusion creasing his brow. “Your wings?”</p><p>Castiel shook his head, and with one hand still on his wing, he used his other hand to point to himself.</p><p>Dean’s face screwed up, something like disgust twisting his features. “Wait, are you saying <em>other angels </em>put this spell on you?”</p><p>Sam looked at Dean in surprise and then looked at Castiel, waiting for confirmation.</p><p>Castiel dropped both of his hands into his lap and nodded his head, staring at the floor with a dusting of pink in his cheeks. For some reason, the fact that angels had put him under a spell embarrassed him.</p><p>Sam’s lips turned into a frown as he tried to piece together how angels had come to turn on other angels. “Did you… do something to anger them?”</p><p>Castiel looked at Sam for a long moment, swallowing hard. Blue eyes searched Sam’s face, though for what, Sam didn’t know. Castiel looked afraid, like he very much wanted to keep his mouth shut, but he must have felt some kind of responsibility to answer, because after a few more moments of cornered contemplation, he offered a nod.</p><p>Sam almost glanced at Dean, but he didn’t want to take his attention off Castiel, especially not while the angel looked so afraid. “Castiel…” Sam struggled with his words for a moment, trying to decide how to ask his question without sounding accusatory. “Can you… tell us what you did?”</p><p>Castiel furrowed his brow and looked down at his lap, reaching up to rub at his chin. He then put his thumbnail between his teeth and chewed, his expression indicating that he intended to answer but didn’t really know how.</p><p>Sam waited patiently, and he silently willed Dean to do the same. Not that Sam thought Dean would intentionally cause Castiel trouble—in fact, if the comic book collection was any indicator, Dean was growing fond of Castiel—but Dean wasn’t known for his stellar patience.</p><p>Castiel held his fists out, thumb knuckles touching, and then he turned his wrists in opposite directions, as if snapping a twig in half.</p><p>Dean arched a brow. “You broke something?” he asked, and then he lifted his bottle to his lips and took a drink.</p><p>Castiel nodded once, looking down again, and then he started to move his hands. He held them half a foot apart and curled his fingers, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to grab words out of the air. He stopped moving, a thoughtful crease in his brow, and then he shrugged and held his hands up with his palms facing skyward in the universal gesture for, ‘I don’t know.’</p><p>“That’s okay.” Sam offered a smile, trying to assure Castiel that nothing bad was going to happen if he didn’t have answers. “Um, was it like some kind of angel relic? Something sacred or valuable?”</p><p>Castiel shook his head, dropping his hands into his lap and offering them an apologetic look.</p><p>Dean reached over and nudged Sam on the arm. “You can just look it up again. It shouldn’t take you too long, right?”</p><p>Sam nodded—he had been planning to suggest the same thing—and he looked at Castiel with a smile. “You want to just tell me in Enochian?”</p><p>Castiel inhaled and wet his lips, struggling with himself for a moment, which Sam completely understood. After all, no matter how understanding and non-violent Sam and Dean were, Castiel had been severely tortured, and the hunters who captured him after the fact probably hadn’t taken too kindly to his Enochian. What exactly Asa and Ray had done if and when Castiel spoke in his native tongue, Sam didn’t know, but he expected it was some kind of physical retribution. Which, honestly, Sam understood. Enochian was dangerous. Sam was taking a big risk by allowing Castiel to speak it.</p><p>“<em>Dania.</em>” Castiel looked at the two of them, a small smile pulling on the corner of his mouth. It was almost as if he were silently thanking them for their patience, or maybe he was trying to tell them he knew they wouldn’t hurt him for his words.</p><p>“<em>Dania?</em>” Sam echoed, smiling when Castiel answered with a nod. “Got it.” He looked at Dean then. “Well, that sounds like it starts with a ‘D.’ It shouldn’t be too hard to look up.”</p><p>Dean took another sip of his Coke and gestured toward the kitchen door. “Go get the book then.”</p><p>Sam got to his feet and walked back into the kitchen, picking the book up from the table and carrying it back out to the garage. He sat back down on the floor and opened the book to the ‘D’s, his eyes skimming the words.</p><p>“So… it’s either D-A or D-E.” Sam looked up at Castiel. “D-A?”</p><p>Castiel nodded his head, wide eyes watching Sam navigate the book.</p><p>“Okay.” Sam looked back down at the dictionary and started to flip through the pages. “Next comes ‘N…’” He found the section and began to scan the words again. “Then I’m assuming it’s I-A, which would make it plural…”</p><p>Castiel grinned a little and nodded his head, seeming almost excited to see Sam learning his language. If it weren’t for Dean sitting right next to them, Sam would have reminded Castiel that they were <em>ordonra, </em>and he would have assured Castiel that he didn’t mind learning Enochian. He was actually pretty thrilled about it.</p><p>“Here we go,” Sam pointed to the word on the page. “Rules.” He looked at Castiel again. “So, you broke the rules?”</p><p>Castiel nodded his head solemnly, his earlier shame returning to darken his features.</p><p>Dean whistled and shook his head in disbelief. “Must’ve been some pretty big rules.”</p><p>Castiel dropped his head a little lower and nodded.</p><p>For a moment, Sam considered asking for clarification. After all, he had the Enochian-to-English dictionary, and it wasn’t that hard to sound out the words and figure out how they were spelled. But… Castiel seemed so bothered by his transgression against the angels. Sam didn’t want to make it worse; not for information that wouldn’t really help them solve anything.</p><p>“So.” Dean tilted his head back and emptied his bottle into his mouth, letting out a satisfied ‘ahh’ before chucking the glass into the recycle bin against the far wall. “We know the angels are the ones who tied your tongue. Did they do something to your grace, too? Or are you just recharging from all the torture?”</p><p>Castiel’s eyes widened slightly, and he stared at Dean for a moment before looking over at Sam for help.</p><p>Sam looked at Dean. “One question at a time.”</p><p>Dean glanced back at Sam. “Right.” He looked back at Castiel. “Did the angels do something to your grace?”</p><p>Castiel nodded his head, shame dragging his eyes to the floor.</p><p>“But you still have some, right?” Dean gestured to the bandages sticking to Castiel’s stomach. “That’s why your wounds are healing up so fast?”</p><p>Castiel nodded again, and his embarrassment seemed to fade a little. So, if Sam was reading that right, Castiel wasn’t embarrassed about the lack of grace itself, he was embarrassed about why it was taken from him. It had something to do with the rules he broke.</p><p>“Oof.” Dean winced sympathetically. “If they weren’t worried about killing you, they probably went to town.”</p><p>Castiel’s face scrunched up in confusion, and he looked to Sam for help again.</p><p>“He means they didn’t hold back,” Sam explained.</p><p>Castiel’s lips formed an ‘O,’ and he nodded his head emphatically. He reached back and grabbed one of his wings, pulling it around the front of him and pointing to it.</p><p>Sam and Dean exchanged a look, and then Sam set the dictionary aside, sliding from sitting to kneeling. He leaned in closer and looked at the appendage, frowning slightly. “Uh…”</p><p>Castiel used both hands to pull the feathers apart, exposing the red flesh underneath.</p><p>Sam squinted and leaned in some more. “It almost looks like…” He reached out a hand but then stopped, looking at Castiel’s face. “May I?”</p><p>Castiel blinked in surprise, like he hadn’t expected to be asked, and then he nodded his head.</p><p>Sam gingerly touched the skin, but the texture didn’t reveal much. It was smooth and soft, leading Sam to think it was relatively new skin. Other than that…</p><p>“Um…” Sam looked at Castiel again. “Burns?”</p><p>Castiel nodded a few times and then motioned to his whole wing.</p><p>“Your whole wing was burned?” Sam grimaced at the thought, but confusion quickly replaced his sympathy. “Why aren’t your feathers burned?”</p><p>Castiel pointed to himself, but then he waved his hand and shook his head, as if trying to undo the gesture. He put his finger to his chin and frowned, looking down at his lap.</p><p>“It’s okay if you can’t tell us, Castiel.” Sam smiled comfortingly. “It was just curiosity. I don’t need to know.”</p><p>Castiel tilted his head and glanced to the side, pulling his lip between his teeth. He thought about it for a few more seconds, and then he looked at Sam. “<em>Geddun.</em>”</p><p>Sam nodded right away. “I know that one. It’s ‘grace,’ right?”</p><p>Castiel nodded and then ran his fingers through his feathers again.</p><p>Sam couldn’t help but be a little bit fascinated, and he wondered if hunters had ever gotten so much information about angels before. “Are you saying… your feathers and your grace are connected?”</p><p>Castiel nodded, leaving his hands buried in his wing. He kept holding it close, which made Sam think about the times he had seen Castiel grab his wings for comfort, which in turn made him wonder if it was really Castiel’s grace that gave him comfort.</p><p>Dean was the next to speak, his brow somewhat crinkled. “Is that why it hurt so much when I had to pull your feather?”</p><p>Sam felt a brief rush of frustration, and he almost commented on the fact that Dean didn’t <em>have </em>to pull anything, but he kept his attention on Castiel and kept his mouth closed.</p><p>Castiel nodded a few times and ran his fingers through his feathers again. With a sigh, he let go of his wing, and it returned to its usual place behind his back.</p><p>“So,” Sam started, trying to get everything in order in his head. “Before the vampires, you were being held captive by demons, and they burned your wings.”</p><p>Sam was opening his mouth to continue when Castiel spread his arms wide, looking at the brothers with big eyes.</p><p>Sam felt sadness dampen his features. “They did a lot more than burn your wings.” He glanced at Dean briefly. “We kinda guessed that. I didn’t mean to make it seem like that was all they did. I…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. They did a lot, is the point.”</p><p>Castiel blinked, and then he nodded his head.</p><p>Sam nodded back. “Got it. They burned your wings, among other things, but your feathers came back as your grace started to replenish.”</p><p>Castiel nodded his head with a smile, pleased to be understood.</p><p>Dean pointed to Castiel’s wings, brow furrowed in confusion. “So, your feathers are good, but your wings are still healing? Or is it already healed, and the skin is just red?”</p><p>Castiel waved a hand and gave them a look like it was no big deal, and he appeared confident. But at the last second, he cast a glance back at his wings, and Sam caught the barest glimpse of profound sadness in those sky blue eyes.</p><p>“Okay.” Dean put his elbow on his knee and rested his chin on his fist. “So, that’s what happened in the past. Let’s talk about the present. How are we supposed to find these demons that had you?”</p><p>Castiel held his hands up in the universal gesture for ‘I don’t know,’ and then he scratched his cheek. His lips puckered as he thought, and after a moment, he held up his fists in a fighting position.</p><p>“Fight?” Dean asked, lifting his own fists with a questioning look on his face.</p><p>Sam glanced at Dean and then looked back at Castiel. “I… I think he means they’re the kind of things we fight.”</p><p>Castiel pointed at Sam and nodded enthusiastically.</p><p>“Cool.” Dean looked at Sam. “So it’s like I said. We just gotta look for hunts that have a demon vibe and see what we encounter.”</p><p>“It sounds like it.” Sam frowned at the thought of waiting—the thought of Castiel spending who knew how much time without his voice—and he quickly decided he had to do something in the meantime. “Castiel,” Sam started, slipping back into a sitting position and putting on hand on the dictionary. “Is it safe to assume the spell the angels put on you was an Enochian spell?”</p><p>Castiel blinked his wide eyes and nodded his head, a faint crease of confusion in his brow.</p><p>“Well, I guess it’s settled then.” Sam gave Castiel a cockeyed smile. “With Dad laid up from the vampire hunt, and without a way to track the demons who had you, I am in for a lot of Enochian studying.”</p><p>Castiel blinked again, his confusion increasing, but then realization broke over his face. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then he closed it again, his lips drawn into a thin line. He forced a little smile, like he was trying to encourage Sam, but his expression showed the exact opposite.</p><p><em>He doesn’t think I can do this. </em>Sam felt a little bit indignant, but mostly he just felt sad for Castiel. It was a terrible thing to be without hope. <em>I’ll just have to prove him wrong.</em></p><p>“Well…” Dean cleared his throat and glanced at Sam, “…since we can’t go on any hunts until Dad is better…” he looked at Castiel, pursing his lips, “…then I guess, you know, since there’s nothing else to do…”  he looked up to the ceiling and heaved a sigh, “…I guess I can help figure out what kind of spell Cas is under.”</p><p>Sam gave Dean a wry smile, and he couldn’t help but find Dean’s pretend reluctance endearing.</p><p>Castiel seemed surprised by Dean’s willingness to help, but after a moment of staring, his lips parted in a wide smile. He put his palms together with his thumbs against his chest, almost like he was praying, and then he said, “<em>Visnangi.</em>”</p><p>Sam didn’t need the dictionary to know Castiel was thanking them for their help—or at least, he was thanking them for trying—so Sam smiled warmly. “You’re welcome, Castiel.”</p><p>Dean rolled his eyes and blew air through his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”</p><p>Castiel dropped his hands into his lap, but the smile on his face didn’t fade. He apparently understood Dean was just being his typical self and didn’t mean anything negative by it.</p><p>“Alright, well—” Sam grabbed the Enochian dictionary and got to his feet, “—I guess I’m headed to Bobby’s.”</p><p>Dean sighed and got to his feet, still putting on his unwilling façade. “Yeah, I guess I’m coming with you.” He pointed to Castiel. “Yo. Cas. Mac n’ cheese sound good for dinner?”</p><p>Castiel blinked, looking between Sam and Dean with a clueless expression.</p><p>“Psh.” Dean waved dismissively, annoyed. “Doesn’t even know what mac n’ cheese is.”</p><p>“Well, when he had his grace, he probably didn’t need to eat.” Sam walked over to the door that led into the house, stopping with his hand on the knob to look at Castiel. “Do you need anything before we leave?”</p><p>Castiel pressed his lips together and looked down, somewhat embarrassed. He turned his gaze to Dean, offered a weak smile, and put his hand on the stack of comic books next to him.</p><p>“You need more already?” Dean questioned, his eyes widening.</p><p>Castiel ducked his head and averted his eyes before offering a faint nod.</p><p>“Don’t make him feel bad, Dean.” Sam opened the door to the house, preparing to go inside. “It’s not like he has anything else to do out here.”</p><p>Dean raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. No smart comments.” He walked over to Castiel’s mattress and held out his hands. “Give me the ones you’re done with, and I’ll get’cha some more.”</p><p>Castiel beamed and promptly handed over all but two of the comic books. Dean took the stack and then joined Sam by the door.</p><p>“I’ll be back soon,” Dean said.</p><p>Sam smiled to himself and pushed the door in, mentally preparing himself for a long day in Bobby’s library. <em>I know for a fact Bobby has a book of Enochian spells, and while I’m not sure what they’re all for, it’s definitely a starting point. </em>Sam walked through the kitchen and dining room, poking his head into the living room and finding John asleep on the couch. <em>I’ll just make sure to keep my phone on me. </em></p><p>Sam turned and went back through the dining room, headed for the front door. “I’ll meet you there, Dean!” he called over his shoulder, and then he left the house behind.</p><p>
  <em>I’m gonna figure this out, Castiel. I promise.</em>
</p><hr/><p>“You’re being awful quiet back there, Sam.”</p><p>Sam jerked himself from his thoughts, abandoning the pages of his book to look at the back of Bobby’s head. “I was reading.” For the past week, that was all he had been doing. “Did you want me to say something?”</p><p>Dean turned around in the passenger seat of Bobby’s car, his expression mildly irked. “We’re up here talking about how we’re gonna waste this vengeful spirit, and you’re not offering anything.”</p><p>Right. They were on a hunt with Bobby, going to deal with a vengeful spirit, and Sam was still burying his nose in Enochian like they were back at the library.</p><p>“Well?” Dean pressed.</p><p>Sam held up his hands, disbelief twisting his features. “What do you want me to say? It’s a basic salt and burn. We’ve just got to get there and get the job done.”</p><p>Dean crossed his arms over his chest and turned to face the front of the car, slouching in his seat. “Well, at least you said <em>something.</em>”</p><p>Sam let out an inaudible sigh and dogeared the page he was reading, closing the book and setting it aside. He knew Dean sometimes got jealous of the attention Sam gave to research, and it might have been annoying, but it was part of being Dean’s little brother. So, Sam leaned between the two front seats.</p><p>“Do we have any idea who the spirit is?” Sam asked.</p><p>Bobby shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “Nope. Some young couple bought an old house to fix up, lived for three months with no problems, and then suddenly started reporting vandalism and strange happenings to the police.”</p><p>Sam pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Hmm… so we’re thinking they did something to anger the spirit?”</p><p>Dean lifted a finger. “My money’s on renovations. They were screwing around with the house and unearthed something they should have left alone.” </p><p>Sam nodded a few times. “Could be.” He glanced at Bobby. “Is there any chance it’s a human?”</p><p>Bobby furrowed his brow and thought about it for a moment, but then he shook his head. “I don’t think so. Some of the vandalism might make sense if it’s a human, but the weird stuff doesn’t.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Dean propped his elbow on the door and put his chin in his hand. “It’d be really weird if someone broke into their house to put all the contents of their cupboards in a line through the kitchen.”</p><p>Sam conceded to their arguments with a nod. “Yeah, that would definitely be weird.” He leaned back in his seat, tracing idle patterns over the cover of the book he’d been forced to abandon. “Has it been violent toward them?”</p><p>“Not at first,” Bobby answered, flicking on his turn signal to change lanes. “But three nights ago, the wife got pushed down the stairs.”</p><p>Sam chewed on his lip. “Hmm. That doesn’t necessarily sound malicious.”</p><p>“Right,” Dean snorted. “‘Cause nothing says ‘benevolent spirit’ like a trip down the stairs.”</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes, exasperated. “I’m not saying it’s a benevolent spirit, I’m just saying a spirit could try to push or startle someone without realizing a fall down the stairs could kill them.”</p><p>Dean may or may not have seen Sam’s point, but however he felt, he decided to end the conversation with a mumbled, “Yeah, maybe.”</p><p>Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes again, and he settled into silence in the backseat, wondering if he had done enough talking to warrant a return to his book.</p><p>As if reading his mind, Bobby looked in the rearview mirror and asked, “How’s the angel research coming?”</p><p>Sam ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh, caught somewhere between discouraged and hopeful. “Well, we’ve only been at it for a week, and we’ve already found some sigils and spells that limit an angel’s grace. We don’t know if any of them were used on Castiel, and if they were, we don’t know how to reverse them, but it’s a starting point.”</p><p>Bobby opened his mouth to respond, but Dean beat him to the punch.</p><p>“You know what I want to know?” There was a beat of silence, Dean squinting out the window as if he had seen something suspicious. “Who’s Gabriel?”</p><p>Sam had been wondering the same thing himself, but he kept quiet. He wanted to hear what Dean had to say about the mysterious author of the Enochian dictionary.</p><p>“I mean, if any human could speak Enochian fluently, they’d have to be a big-time hunter, and we’d know about them. We don’t, so you gotta figure it’s an angel.” Dean pursed his lips, still scrutinizing the window. “But that makes you wonder, what’s an angel doing helping hunters?”</p><p>“Well—” Sam wet his lips, “—the vampires told us that Castiel killed some of their friends because their friends were killing humans. So, maybe there are some angels that help humans instead of hurt them.”</p><p>Dean snorted. “You can’t take a vampire’s word.”</p><p>Sam glared. “We know they were telling the truth about several other things. Why would they lie about that?”</p><p>“They’re monsters, Sam.” Dean turned in his seat, looking at Sam with narrowed eyes. “They lie because they’re evil. You can’t trust anything they say.”</p><p>Sam exhaled sharply. “Well, sorry, Dean, but I don’t think that way. They’re monsters, sure, but they’re still people, and people lie for a <em>reason</em>. In this case, there was no reason for them to lie about how they knew Castiel. It didn’t help them in any way.”</p><p>Bobby held up a hand to end the argument before it could get anywhere. “Let’s just say, for the sake of discussion, that the vampires were telling the truth. Does that tell us anything about Gabriel?”</p><p>Sam thought about it for a few seconds, and then he slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He glanced at the closed book beside him, though it wasn’t any help. “If we knew why he did it, we might know whether he’s an enemy or not, but it wouldn’t help us find him.”</p><p>Dean pursed his lips. “Maybe he moves around to keep from being detected.”</p><p>Sam nodded slowly. “Ray said copies of the dictionary showed up at all kinds of hunters markets across the country. He could be leaving them wherever he goes, like some kind of calling card.”</p><p>Bobby reached up to scratch at his beard. “Well, if that’s the case, you could start calling around and find out what stores and markets <em>haven’t </em>got a dictionary, and you could ask them to keep an eye out for anything strange,” he suggested.</p><p>Dean snorted, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think telling hunters to look out for strange happenings is going to get us anywhere.”</p><p>Bobby pointed to Dean. “Touché.”</p><p>“Well—” Sam leaned forward a bit, looking at Dean, “—if you’re right about Gabriel being an angel, Castiel might know something about him. And if he doesn’t, maybe other angels do.” Sam digested the words as he was saying them, trying to make sense of all the miscellaneous information they had. “Castiel told us he broke the rules, and that’s why his tongue is tied and his grace is weakened. If angels have rules, they have to have someone to enforce the rules; there has to be some kind of hierarchy.”</p><p>Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe they just all keep each other in check, like hunters.”</p><p>“But even hunters have small groups with people in charge of those groups,” Sam argued. “So, even if they do all keep each other in check, some angel, somewhere, is in charge of some other angels.”</p><p>“What’s your point?” Dean asked, turning a little more in his seat so he could see Sam better.</p><p>“My point is, we might be able to hunt and interrogate an angel and find out more about how to help Castiel.” Sam put a finger up. “<em>And </em>we might be able to learn who this Gabriel character is.”</p><p>Dean was shaking his head before Sam even had a chance to finish. “No way. Angels are way too dangerous, Sam. You gotta kill’em on sight.” He shook his head again. “The only reason Cas is still alive is because he’s too weak to do anything.”</p><p>Bobby looked at Sam in the rearview mirror, a sympathetic crease in his brow. “Sorry, Sam, but I think your brother is right about this one. Not to mention, even if I did agree with you, there’s no way you’re gonna convince your dad to capture <em>another </em>angel.”</p><p>Sam wet his lips and glanced at the book he had been reading again. <em>I know there are other angels that have the answers we need. </em>He leaned forward again, looking between Dean and Bobby. “Okay, here’s the deal. I am going to tell you my scheme to eventually be allowed to interrogate an angel, and neither of you are going to tell Dad. Capice?”</p><p>Bobby and Dean both looked at him with confusion and hesitance on their faces, and Dean uttered a bewildered, “Uhm…”</p><p>Sam stopped him before he could go any further. “Great! So, step one: we convince Dad to let Castiel come along and help on hunts.”</p><p>“What?” Dean looked at Sam in shock. “Are you crazy? Dad would never allow that!”</p><p>“Which is why you’re gonna help me convince him,” Sam said simply, a broad smirk on his face. “Because you love me. Right, Dean?”</p><p>Dean opened his mouth to object, but Sam pushed ahead.</p><p>“Right!” Sam patted Dean on the arm. “Once we convince Dad to let Castiel come along and help on hunts, it’s only a matter of time before Dad sees that Castiel is not a threat and wants to help us.”</p><p>Dean threw his hands up and looked at Sam incredulously. “You don’t know that! For all we know, Cas is just biding his time, and as soon as—”</p><p>“Castiel <em>wants </em>to help us, Dean. Or at least, he wants to help me.” Sam briefly considered telling them about <em>ordonra</em> and what it meant, but he decided against it. “He wants to be useful, and that’s what taking him on hunts is going to prove.”</p><p>Dean shook his head and muttered unintelligibly under his breath, but he didn’t interrupt.</p><p>“Once we prove that Castiel can be trusted, we can use Castiel’s supernatural powers to overpower another angel. I’m sure he would have no trouble helping us if the angel is hurting humans, especially if it’s one of the angels who hurt <em>him</em>.” Sam inhaled, fully prepared to keep going, but Dean couldn’t keep his peace anymore.</p><p>“You think an <em>angel</em> is going to help a group of <em>monster</em> <em>hunters</em> take down a <em>fellow</em> <em>angel?</em>”</p><p>Sam remained calm while Dean nearly exploded, keeping his main objective in mind. “Yes, I do. We already know Castiel hurt and killed other monsters because they were harming humans. Why wouldn’t he want to hurt an angel that was harming humans?”</p><p>“Because they’re <em>both angels!</em>” Dean shouted.</p><p>“So, what?” Sam spread his arms, raising his voice. “Would you refuse to help arrest Jeffrey Dahmer because you’re both humans?”</p><p>Dean turned sideways in the passenger seat, hands gesticulating as he continued to rant. “Angels are <em>monsters</em>, Sam! They don’t think like us, and they don’t act like us!”</p><p>“Of <em>course </em>they do!” Sam shot back. “They’re <em>people, </em>Dean. They just happen to also be supernatural.”</p><p>Dean reached up and gripped his hair, letting out a frustrated shout. “Augh! Bobby, help me talk some sense into him!”</p><p>Bobby glanced in the rearview mirror at Sam and then put his eyes back on the road. “Well…” He scratched his beard a few times and then inhaled through his teeth. “I still think trying to capture an angel is crazy… <em>but…</em>” he glanced at Dean almost apologetically, “…I think Sam’s right about Castiel’s good intentions.”</p><p>“What?” Dean exclaimed.</p><p>“Ha!” Sam slapped Dean on the arm. “Bobby agrees with me!”</p><p>Bobby held up a finger. “Now, wait just a second.” He wagged the finger sternly. “I said I <em>still </em>think your idea is crazy. I just also happen to think that if Castiel wanted one of us injured or dead, it would have happened by now.”</p><p>Sam pursed his lips and nodded a few times. “Yeah, that’s fair.” He continued to nod slightly as he thought about the proposition. “His wounds are healing up really fast. He’s probably a lot stronger than he lets on.”</p><p>Dean, still huffing over Bobby’s betrayal, folded his arms over his chest and snapped, “Well, if that’s the case, you better figure out how you’re gonna talk Dad out of killing him before he gets any stronger.”</p><p>Sam smiled cheekily and tapped Dean on the shoulder. “You’re gonna help me with that, too.”</p><p>“Oh, am I?” Dean retorted, giving Sam a dirty look that was more for show than a sign of anger.</p><p>“Yeah, you are.” Sam’s smile lingered as he watched Dean display his dissatisfaction. “Because, whether you’ll admit it or not, you like Castiel, too.”</p><p>Dean frowned, arms still crossed and body still sideways in his seat, and he mumbled something under his breath.</p><p>“What was that?” Sam asked sweetly, leaning closer and cupping a hand around his ear.</p><p>“I <em>said, </em>‘Fine, I’ll help you.’” Dean glared at Sam, and then he turned so he was facing forward again. “You brat.”</p><p>Bobby shook his head at their drama and said, “I ain’t making any promises about helping, but I won’t tell your dad what you’re up to.”</p><p>Sam smiled, more than satisfied with their responses. “Thanks, guys. You’re the best.”</p><p>“Yuh-huh,” Dean muttered, still put out by the whole affair.</p><p>Sam only smiled some more and leaned back in his seat, letting out a quiet sigh. He might have been in for the fight of his life with his dad, but at least he had his brother and uncle on his side. With their help, Castiel just might have a chance.</p><p>“Now, can we <em>please </em>go kick some ghost posterior like <em>normal </em>hunters?”</p><p>Sam laughed.</p><hr/><p>John opened the door to the garage and immediately spied their resident angel laying on his mattress and reading one of Dean’s comic books. John knocked on the already open door and then walked down the steps, holding out a pack of Pop-Tarts.</p><p>“Dinner, angel.”</p><p>Castiel sat up in bed and blinked his wide eyes at John before zeroing in on the silver package. He looked at it for a few seconds, and then he looked at John’s face, and then he looked back at the package. He looked up at John again and cocked his head to one side, a silent question in his pale blue eyes.</p><p>“It’s food.” John moved the package a little, still holding it out for Castiel to take. “It’s not the healthiest meal, but with my back all shot up, I’m not about to cook.”</p><p>Castiel ignored the package John was trying to hand to him, his face twisting up with confusion and something that, if John were honest, looked like concern. Castiel pushed himself up on his knees and reached around with both hands, touching his own back and looking to John for confirmation of some sort.</p><p>John offered a faint nod and reminded himself of where the angel blade was in the house.</p><p>Castiel slowly lifted his hands, extending them toward John with the palms facing up. He stared at them and took a deep breath, looking like he was trying to calm himself, and then he squinted at his hands. They started to shimmer almost immediately, a bluish-white sheen forming over the skin of his palms and fingers.</p><p>John dropped the Pop-Tarts and bolted into the house, grabbing the angel blade from the kitchen table. He turned on his heel and dashed back out, running up to Castiel without a second thought. He grabbed a handful of dark hair and put the tip of the angel blade up to Castiel’s neck, growling out a command.</p><p>“Don’t even think about it.”</p><p>Of course, as soon as John had the upper hand, he was in a position to actually think about what was happening, and what was happening didn’t make sense.</p><p>Castiel was kneeling on the cement floor with both hands held up in surrender, the unearthly glow completely gone. His head was ducked as much as the angel blade would allow, his wings were draped unthreateningly on the ground, and his eyes were screwed shut in absolute terror.</p><p><em>Hmm. </em>John may have been suspicious, and he may have had a temper, but he wasn’t stupid. <em>You don’t give warning if you’re trying to attack. Whatever he was trying to do, he was almost… asking permission by moving so slowly.</em></p><p>John slowly uncurled the fingers tangled in Castiel’s hair, his hand gradually falling away from Castiel’s head. He kept the angel blade against Castiel’s neck, every muscle tensed and ready to end the angel at a moment’s notice.</p><p>“Now, I know Sam talks to you,” John started, watching Castiel’s throat bob against the silver blade. “And I know you talk back, in your own way. So, tell me… what were you trying to do?”</p><p>Castiel cautiously opened his eyes, fear shining in the pools of blue. He swallowed again, still visibly terrified, and then he slowly started to move his hands. He lowered them to his side and lifted his shirt, reaching around and touching his back.</p><p>John could hardly believe what he was seeing, but there weren’t a lot of ways to interpret what the angel was miming. “You… want to heal me?”</p><p>Castiel offered a hesitant nod, slowly moving his hands back up to their position of surrender. His right wing twitched ever-so-slightly, and John almost skewered his neck right there, but he didn’t.</p><p><em>He wants to heal me? </em>It didn’t make sense, but it made even less sense for it to be a lie. Why would Castiel reveal he had enough power to do anything? As long as they thought he was helpless, he was relatively safe. Why throw that away? Just to help John?</p><p>Gradually, eyes still narrowed in suspicion, John moved the angel blade away from Castiel’s neck. He kept a firm grip on the hilt and took a step back, not entirely sure of what he was doing.</p><p>Castiel stared up at John in mute confusion, blinking his owlish eyes.</p><p>John stared back, his eyes considerably darker, but he didn’t act on his ingrained way of thinking. Instead, he took his free hand and lifted the righthand side of his shirt, exposing the bandages taped to his skin.</p><p>“If you still want to…” John nodded his head toward the wound, keeping his eyes on Castiel at all times. “But you make one false move, and I’ll run you through. Got it, angel?”</p><p>Castiel didn’t do anything right away, and the look on his face said he was still very afraid of what John would do. But, very slowly, he started to lower his hands, reaching out toward John’s injury. That supernatural sheen that had been on his skin before returned, the light growing a little brighter the longer it was there.</p><p><em>Are you really going to let an angel touch you with magic hands? </em>John just barely had the thought when he felt a cool sensation in his back and side. Suddenly, the dull and throbbing ache he had come to accept as part of his recovery was gone, replaced by an itch around the medical tape.</p><p>Castiel dropped his hands down into his lap, his position still subservient, and he started panting heavily.</p><p>John kept his eye on Castiel, but at the same time, he scratched at the edge of the medical tape on his back. He got the corner peeled, and then he pulled the bandage off, revealing a healed scar underneath.</p><p>
  <em>Well, I’ll be…</em>
</p><p>Castiel continued to look up at John from his spot on the floor, and John could have sworn the angel had a little smile tugging on the corner of his mouth.</p><p>
  <em>His wings look a little more gray than black now, but other than that, he looks the same. He’s definitely out of breath, but he looks perfectly healthy otherwise. If he has enough mojo to completely heal a gunshot wound, what else does he have enough mojo for?</em>
</p><p>The hunter in John wanted to respond to the question by plunging the angel blade into Castiel’s chest, but something else—something that was almost definitely Sam’s fault—made him reconsider.</p><p>
  <em>Whatever he’s capable of right now, the only thing he’s decided to do is heal me. That has to be at least considered.</em>
</p><p>John put one hand on his hip and arched a brow, looking Castiel up and down and coming to a decision. “Well. Least I can do is make you something proper for dinner. Give me twenty minutes, alright?”</p><p>Castiel blinked, his expression surprised, but he quickly nodded his understanding.</p><p>John nodded in return, and then he left the garage behind, cursing under his breath as he closed the door.</p><p>
  <em>That boy is getting in my head. Pretty soon, I’ll be letting the angel wander around the house like a pet!</em>
</p><p>John could only hope Sam would make such a request. Or any request like it, for that matter.</p><p>
  <em>Maybe I’ll get lucky.</em>
</p><p>Yeah. Maybe.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Come on, Dad!” Sam spread his hands, his voice torn between angry and pleading. “You trusted him to heal you, and you trust he won’t hurt us even though he’s getting his power back. Why won’t you let him go on hunts with us?”</p><p>John leaned into the trunk of the Impala, rearranging the weapons in preparation for their hunt. “Trust is a strong word, Sam, and we can’t afford to be keeping an eye on an angel while we’re trying to take care of <em>other </em>monsters.” He pulled a machete out and ran his finger along the blade. “Not to mention, everyone who sees an angel wandering around is going to freak out and call the police or the monster hunting hotline.”</p><p>Sam approached the Impala, trying to get into John’s field of vision. “We don’t have to let him be around normal people,” he argued, placing his hands on the side of the trunk. “He can stay at the motel and do research with me. No one will see us there.”</p><p>John put the machete back in the trunk and then grabbed a jar of dead man’s blood. “How’s he gonna tell you about anything he finds if he can’t talk?” He shook the jar a few times and then, satisfied with the consistency of the blood, put it back.</p><p>“Castiel and I are good at communicating, and I have the Enochian dictionary. We’d be able to figure it out.” Sam watched John move a couple shotguns from one side of the trunk to the other. “Please, Dad? This could be a really, really good thing.”</p><p>John gave Sam a look of disbelief. “Oh, really?”</p><p>“Yes, really.” Sam wet his lips and started laying out the benefits he had been thinking up for the past several days. “The more we observe him, the more we learn about angels and what they’re capable of. And we might learn more about why he can’t talk, which could teach us more about Enochian spells and how to break them. And it never hurts to have another pair of eyes doing research. And—”</p><p>John held up a hand, demanding silence, and he put his attention back on the trunk. He counted how many pistols they had, and then he let out a heavy sigh. “You’ve really got your heart set on this, haven’t you?”</p><p>Sam looked at John hopefully, fingers curling around the metal frame of the car. “I think it’s a really good idea.”</p><p>John continued to look through the contents of the trunk. “I can tell.” He let out another sigh and grabbed the trunk lid, nodding toward Sam’s hands. “Watch your fingers.”</p><p>Sam pulled his hands away, and John slammed the trunk shut. John then turned around and leaned back against the vehicle, folding his arms over his chest.</p><p>“Dad—” Sam started, but John held his hand up again.</p><p>“Just let me think for a second.” John tapped his upper arm, staring down at the ground with an expression of deep thought on his face. He continued to stare for several moments, and then he pinched the bridge of his nose with a defeated sigh. “You promise to keep an angel blade on you in case things go south?”</p><p>Sam nodded eagerly, barely able to believe he had managed to convince his dad without fighting to the death. “Yes, absolutely.”</p><p>John gave Sam a sideways look and scrutinized him for a moment before gesturing to the car. “You realize you and the angel are gonna be crammed in the back with his wings?”</p><p>Sam waved it off, and even though he wasn’t looking forward to it, it was hardly a deciding factor. “We’ll manage.”</p><p>John dropped his arms to his sides and then, after one more moment of hesitation, he lifted his hands in surrender. “Alright. We’ll take the angel.” He held up a finger. “But just as a trial run. If it doesn’t work out, he’s staying here from now on.”</p><p>Sam couldn’t keep from grinning. “He’ll be fine. I promise.” He hesitated for a moment, and then he lunged forward, throwing his arms around John’s neck. “Thanks, Dad.”</p><p>“Yuh-huh.” John still didn’t sound convinced, but he returned Sam’s hug and then tousled his hair with a fond smile. “You crazy kid.”</p><p>Sam smiled back and then turned, walking up to the house and going in the front door. He walked through the dining room and kitchen, and then he let himself into the garage.</p><p>“Hey, Castiel.”</p><p>Castiel looked up from the comic book he was reading and smiled, placing the book on the end of his mattress and putting all his attention on Sam.</p><p>“So, I was talking to my dad, and…” Sam sat down beside the mattress, crisscrossing his legs, “…how would you like to come along on our hunt?”</p><p>Castiel tilted his head slightly and blinked his wide eyes, but he didn’t seem put off by the idea. He continued to stare at Sam for several seconds, and then he looked at the floor between them, a thoughtful crease in his forehead.</p><p>Sam waited patiently, twiddling his thumbs as Castiel considered his options.</p><p>Castiel looked up from the floor with a faint smile on his lips, and he nodded twice.</p><p>Sam smiled. “You want to come along?”</p><p>Castiel nodded again, and then his face twisted up with confusion. He pointed to his wings, and then he held his hands up in an ‘I don’t know’ kind of gesture.</p><p>“Don’t worry about that.” Sam waved it off. “You and I are going to be at the motel the whole time. We’ll be doing the research while Dad and Dean go hunt.”</p><p>Castiel seemed to think about it for a moment, and then he held up a finger. He turned on the mattress and grabbed his blanket, flicking it a few times before draping it over one of his wings. He looked back at Sam then and motioned to his covered wing with a questioning expression.</p><p>Sam frowned slightly, confused, and he tried to figure out what Castiel was saying to him. “I…” He shook his head. “I don’t think we’ll need to hide your wings. No one should notice them while you’re in the car, and then once we’re inside the motel room, we just have to keep the blinds shut and be careful when we answer the door.”</p><p>Castiel opened his mouth to speak, stopping short when he remembered he was limited to Enochian. He held his hands up, fingers curled as if he were trying to grab words out of the air, and then he shook his head. He grabbed the blanket and pulled it off his wing, and then he held out both hands, like he wanted Sam to wait.</p><p>So, despite his confusion, Sam sat and waited.</p><p>Castiel ran a hand through his hair and then took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He bowed his head slightly and put his hands in his lap, looking very much like he was concentrating on something.</p><p>Sam watched in silence, and for a fraction of a second, he felt a tickle of suspicion in the back of his mind. <em>He’s an angel. They’re extremely powerful, and I have no idea what he’s doing. I should be stopping him.</em></p><p>Sam shook it off, reminding himself that Castiel wouldn’t hurt him. They were friends, after all, and Castiel had proven his good nature more than once. Still, it was a little unnerving not knowing what Castiel was doing, so Sam decided it wouldn’t hurt to ask. The first syllable was on his lips when he realized the edges of Castiel’s wings were… they were <em>fading </em>somehow.</p><p>“Castiel?”</p><p>Castiel held his finger up, his eyes still closed in deep concentration. He dropped his hand and continued taking deep, steadying breaths.</p><p>Sam watched in amazement as the transparency forming at the edge of Castiel’s wings spread inward, slowly coating every feather until Castiel sat before him with the appearance of a normal human.</p><p>Castiel’s eyes snapped open, and he sucked in a huge breath, one hand flying to his sternum. He coughed a few times, still rubbing at his chest, and his eyes were watering.</p><p>Sam stared with wide eyes, and then he shook his head, letting out an incredulous laugh. “Castiel, that’s amazing!” He slid from sitting to kneeling, reaching a hand out before catching himself. “Can I—Can I touch them?”</p><p>Castiel smiled and reached behind himself, waving his arm around where his wings would have been.</p><p>Sam stared in awe, slowly reaching out and moving his hand through the air. “They’re not just invisible, they’re—they’re <em>gone</em>.”</p><p>Castiel nodded with a small smile, still somewhat out of breath.</p><p>Sam huffed out another laugh and got to his feet, running to the door to the house and opening it. He stuck his head into the kitchen and called, “Dad! Dean! Come see what Castiel can do!” Then Sam pulled his head back into the garage and looked at Castiel, who was staring with a tight jaw and wide, terrified eyes.</p><p>“No, no, it’s alright,” Sam rushed, going back over to Castiel and crouching down. “Dad and Dean won’t be upset about it. They might have some questions, but…” He trailed off and then bit down on his lip. “I still should have asked first. Sorry, Castiel.”</p><p>Castiel gave Sam a weak smile, still seeming nervous.</p><p>Sam opened his mouth to ask if Castiel wanted him to call off his family, but Dean walked through the garage door before Sam could get a word out.</p><p>“Okay, what did you wa—hat the heck?” Dean stared at Castiel, blinked, and then stared some more. “What the heck?” he repeated.</p><p>Sam smiled and waved his hand through the space where Castiel’s wings used to be. “Look,” he said, just as John walked up behind Dean. “They’re not just invisible. They’re completely gone.”</p><p>Dean walked into the garage to make some room for John by the door. “That’s pretty impressive, Cas.” He nodded in Castiel’s direction. “Can all angels do that?”</p><p>Castiel thought about it for a moment, and then he got to his feet. He doubled over almost immediately, panting to catch his breath, and Sam addressed John and Dean with a note of concern in his voice.</p><p>“It really seems to have taken it out of him, and he had to really concentrate.” Sam looked at Castiel then, wondering what he hoped to accomplish. “Castiel, are you okay?”</p><p>Castiel nodded and slowly straightened up, pointing at Dean.</p><p>Dean pointed to himself. “Me?” Then, after a beat, “Oh. My question.”</p><p>Castiel nodded. He took one hand and put it up by his head, holding it flat with the palm facing down, and he nodded again. Then he put his hand down by his shin, still in the same position, and he shook his head.</p><p>It took a few moments, but Sam was pretty sure he could figure out what Castiel was trying to say. “Um, I think he means big angels—or adult angels—can hide their wings, but little angels can’t.”</p><p>Castiel nodded his head to confirm Sam’s thought, and Sam had to admit, it was weird thinking about angel children. Actually, it was weird thinking about monster children at all. Every creature Sam and his family had ever hunted was an adult.</p><p>John leaned against the doorframe leading into the house, his arms folded over his chest. “You ever use that ability to blend in with humans?”</p><p>Castiel swallowed and glanced at Sam, fear alight in his pale blue eyes, and then he looked back at John. He nodded once and swallowed again, tension running through his muscles.</p><p>John wasn’t moved by the display, and he fired off another question like he was running a police interrogation. “You ever blend in with humans to harm them?”</p><p>Sam fully expected Castiel to shake his head, but Castiel took a few steps back and wrapped his arms around himself before nodding. Sam immediately turned to face his family, one arm going out to bar their access to Castiel.</p><p>“Don’t hurt him.”</p><p>John scoffed and shook his head, an expression of disbelief on his face. “If I was gonna hurt the angel, why would you stop me?” He gave Sam a pointed look. “You want to bring this creature along on hunts, and you expect me to trust you to make a judgement about him when you won’t even acknowledge what he is.”</p><p>“I know exactly what he is,” Sam objected, taking another step in between Castiel and his family, just to be sure. “But we don’t know all the facts. We don’t know why he harmed humans, or how badly he harmed them, or anything.”</p><p>John spread his arms. “Does it matter? We’re hunters, and we hunt monsters that go after humans.” John’s voice started to raise. Not a lot, just enough to let Sam know he wasn’t happy. “He’s a monster, he’s just admitted to harming humans, and you’re protecting him, Sam.”</p><p>“And what’s the alternative?” Sam glared, heat building in his chest as his temper flared. “Are you gonna torture him like the hunters before us did? Are you gonna get someone to rape him like the vampires did?”</p><p>“Of <em>course </em>not.” John looked at Sam with a combination of disgust and frustration on his face. “I would kill him quick and clean, with an angel blade to the heart.”</p><p>“Without a trial or anything?” Sam questioned, wearing his own expression of disgust and frustration. “You’d just kill him?”</p><p>John pushed off the doorframe and took a few steps toward Sam, raising his voice a little more. “Does anything we kill get a trial? You like bringing up the fact that he killed a bunch of vampires for killing humans. Do you think he gave the vampires a trial? Huh?”</p><p>Sam stumbled over his words for a moment, not entirely sure he had an argument. He sighed and spared the briefest glance over his shoulder before looking at John again. “Please, Dad. Don’t kill him.”</p><p>John, suddenly much calmer, spread his arms and gave Sam a disappointed look. “I never said I was going to kill him. You’re the one who assumed.” He folded his arms over his chest and arched a brow. “But you should be keeping his confessions in mind when you’re alone with him. Maybe start keeping an angel blade on you instead of coming out here like you’re coming to hang out with a friend.”</p><p>Sam wanted to shout that Castiel <em>was </em>his friend, but he knew it would only lead to more arguing. He also wanted to tell John that he had let Castiel outside, and that Castiel could have escaped but chose not to, but he didn’t want to risk John putting stricter rules in place.</p><p>“Well,” Sam started, trying to think of an argument to support Castiel’s innocence. “Doesn’t he at least get points for being honest? He didn’t have to tell you he harmed humans, and knowing who we are and what we do, the <em>smart </em>thing would have been to lie, so—”</p><p>“That is exactly why I’m not killing him on the spot.” John dropped his arms to his sides and turned to go back in the house. “Angel blade is on the kitchen table. If I were you, I’d start carrying it.”</p><p>Dean watched John leave and then turned to face Sam, his lips pressed into a thin line. He took a breath and, bracing himself, spoke. “You know, Sam, he isn’t wrong.”</p><p>Sam dropped the arm he had been holding in front of Castiel, exhaling hard. “Don’t, Dean. I got his message, loud and clear. I don’t need to hear it from you, too.”</p><p>Dean held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I never said I wanna see Cas hurt, okay? I just… I don’t want to see <em>anyone </em>hurt.” That was typical of Dean. He was and would always be the family peacekeeper. “Maybe just start keeping the angel blade handy when you’re with Cas. It’s not like anyone’s asking you to use it, and it would help smooth things over with Dad, you know?”</p><p>Sam took a deep breath to cool his temper, and he reminded himself that fighting didn’t do anybody any good. He then considered the fact that Castiel admitted he had hurt humans in the past, which Sam hadn’t expected at all. For everyone’s sake, he couldn’t be in denial about that.</p><p>“Okay.” Sam wet his lips and glanced at the ground, still struggling with his decision. “Okay, I’ll carry the blade.” He turned to look at Castiel, hoping he could make the angel understand. “I’m not mad at you or anything, okay? I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just doing this to keep the peace.”</p><p>Castiel, who was standing just past his mattress with both arms wrapped around himself, nodded a few times. His wide, bright blue eyes were trained on Sam’s face, and he wasn’t smiling, but he seemed to understand that he wasn’t in danger.</p><p>Or at least, Sam hoped he did.</p><p>Sam turned away from Castiel and looked at Dean. “Happy?”</p><p>“Cas will be fine, Sammy.” Dean flashed a small smile. “Trust me.”</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah.” He looked at Castiel again and put a smile on his face, hoping to ease some of the tension. “You can show your wings again. We’re not leaving for the hunt until tomorrow.”</p><p>Castiel cautiously lowered himself to the floor, his gaze sliding to Dean before coming back to Sam. He turned his head enough to see where his wings should have been, and then he looked at Sam again.</p><p>“Castiel, it’s okay.” Sam tried to be as reassuring as possible, but he wasn’t sure how effective it was. “Nobody’s going to hurt your wings. I just meant that… if it’s hard to keep them hidden, then you can save your strength for tomorrow.”</p><p>Castiel stared at Sam for several seconds, and then his eyes went back to Dean.</p><p>Sam turned around and snapped, “Can you go back inside?”</p><p>Dean nodded immediately, putting his hands up and backing toward the door. “Yup. Yeah. Absolutely. I’m gone.” He pulled the door shut once he was through, and then it was just Sam and Castiel.</p><p>Sam sighed and turned back around to face Castiel, wondering what kind of expression he was wearing. He was angry and frustrated with John and Dean, and he was sorry he had fought with them in front of Castiel. He was confused and conflicted about what Castiel had admitted, and he was curious to know more. He wanted to comfort Castiel, but he also wanted to investigate so he could settle some of the chaos in his mind.</p><p>He was all over the place.</p><p>“Castiel, I—”</p><p>“Sam.”</p><p>Sam blinked in surprise, not used to hearing his name in such a low, gravelly voice. “Yes?” he asked, secretly thankful he would have more time to think about what he wanted to say.</p><p>“<em>Ne dana.</em>” Castiel looked at Sam with guilt-ridden eyes, and he started shaking his head. “<em>Ne dana.</em>” He blinked rapidly, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, and he shook his head again and again. “<em>Ne dana. Ne dana.</em>” Castiel lifted his hands to his face, still shaking his head back and forth. “<em>Ne dana.</em>”</p><p>Sam didn’t know for sure what Castiel was saying, but he could guess. Castiel was apologizing—profusely, at that—and Sam didn’t even know for sure what was the extent of Castiel’s actions.</p><p>“Castiel…” Sam slowly crouched down in front of the angel, softening his voice. “It’s okay. It’s really okay. I promise.”</p><p>Castiel only shook his head again, lowering his hands from his face and looking into Sam’s eyes. “<em>Ne dana.</em>”</p><p>Sam offered a small smile and a nod of the head. “I know you’re sorry. But it’s really okay. Dad and I… we fight all the time. It’s not your fault.” Sam ran a hand through his hair and wet his lips, approaching the next topic carefully. “As for the ‘harming humans’ thing…” He shook his head. “I believe you’re good. If you harmed humans, then… I have to believe it was either a mistake, or it’s something you used to do and don’t do anymore, or you had no choice, or… <em>something.</em> Okay?” Sam leaned forward, meeting Castiel’s eyes intently. “I haven’t given up on you. I believe you’re good, and I’m not changing my mind just because I don’t have all the answers right now.”</p><p>Castiel sniffed, wiping his eyes, and he still seemed downcast. His shoulders were slouched, and his head was tilted downward, his eyes defeated and tired.</p><p>“Castiel…” Sam let out a soft sigh, but he smiled when Castiel looked at him. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I promise.”</p><p>Castiel looked at Sam for a long moment, his face so lost and saddened, but then he smiled. Just a faint twitch in the corner of his mouth, but a smile all the same. He nodded to show his understanding, and then he closed his eyes. He concentrated for a moment, and then the black of his wings started to show, the shafts and feathers materializing until the appendages were towering behind him.</p><p>Sam smiled warmly. “Thank you for trusting me.”</p><p>Castiel smiled back, just a brief upturn of his lips, and then he seemed to deflate again.</p><p>Sam watched Castiel for a half a minute, and then he pointed over his shoulder. “I think I’ll head inside. You look like you could use some rest, and we’re not leaving until tomorrow morning, anyway.”</p><p>Castiel nodded wearily, and it looked like his guilt was physically weighing him down.</p><p>Sam got to his feet and walked to the door, thinking over everything that had happened. He stopped in the doorway and looked at Castiel, lifting his hand in a wave.</p><p>Castiel waved back, and then he grew still, sitting with his hands in his lap and his head angled down.</p><p>Sam watched for a moment more, and then he walked into the kitchen, pulling the door shut behind him. Then he stood there, staring at his feet, trying not to be overwhelmed. He didn’t know what to think about Castiel. He didn’t know where in the house to go, because he didn’t want to run into his dad and start fighting again. He didn’t know where Dean stood or what he thought about any of the issues.</p><p>He just didn’t know.</p><p>In the end, Sam decided to retreat into his bedroom and listen to music until it was time to sleep. There really wasn’t any way to mess that up or make it complicated, so he figured it was a safe bet, and time proved him right. By midnight, he was sound asleep, and all of his problems had to wait until morning to be dealt with.</p><p>Unfortunately, morning wouldn’t wait forever.</p><hr/><p>Dean had just shoved three Oreo cookies into his mouth when he heard it. A muffled thump coming from the garage, like someone had run into the wall between the garage and the kitchen. Or maybe like something had fallen or been thrown.</p><p><em>Oh, crap. </em>Dean had no idea what Castiel would have been up to at three in the morning, but he figured it was his responsibility to check. So, he walked over to the kitchen table, grabbed the angel blade, and went out into the garage.</p><p>“Cas?” he whispered, peering into the dark. “Everything okay out here?”</p><p>Dean’s hand wandered to where he knew the light switch was, and he flicked it on, squinting against the brightness. It took a few seconds to adjust, but he quickly made out the shape of Castiel sitting on his mattress with his back against the wall.</p><p><em>Well, at least I know what the noise was. </em>Dean took a few steps toward Castiel and slowly arched a brow, repeating his question. “Everything okay out here?”</p><p>Castiel looked up at Dean, then at the angel blade in his hand, and then at his face again. He quickly nodded, but Dean saw tear tracks on his cheeks, and Castiel’s hands were scratching at his neck and chest.</p><p>“Come on, Cas.” Dean gave Castiel an unimpressed, somewhat judging look. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know I’m not Sam, but I’m still here to help.”</p><p>Castiel’s response was to stare at the angel blade in Dean’s hand.</p><p>Dean lifted the weapon. “This? Don’t worry about this.” He reached around behind himself and stuck the blade in his waistband. “There. Out of sight, out of mind.”</p><p>Castiel looked at Dean hesitantly, but after a minute or so, he seemed to relax. His hands stopped scratching, and he started wiping his face, trying to collect himself.</p><p>Dean watched for a moment, and he felt sympathy swelling in his chest. “Did you have a nightmare?”</p><p>Castiel took a breath and nodded his head, wiping his face again.</p><p>Dean jerked a thumb over his shoulder, keeping his voice and expression soft. “You want me to get Sam?”</p><p>Castiel thought about it for a moment, his lips pursing slightly, and then he shook his head. He put his hands together like he was praying and then put his hands up by his shoulder, tilting his head and resting it against them.</p><p>“Well, yeah, he’s probably sleeping, but he wouldn’t mind me waking him up.” Dean knew it was true, but he got the feeling Castiel was still going to say no because he didn’t want to disturb Sam.</p><p>True to Dean’s prediction, Castiel shook his head and dropped his hands into his lap, looking, in a word, defeated.</p><p>Dean stood there for a while, wanting to help but not knowing how, and after a few minutes, his brain spit out an answer. It told him to follow the instinct that had been drilled into his head since he was four years old.</p><p>“I know what you need.” Dean held up a finger. “I’ll be back in a minute.”</p><p>With that, Dean turned and went back into the house. He started searching through the cabinets, being as quiet as possible, in search of something he hadn’t used in years. Of course, it didn’t really ‘expire,’ so if there was still some left, it would work.</p><p><em>Aha! </em>Dean grabbed the box and pulled it down, looking inside and finding three packets of powder. <em>Just what Cas needs.</em></p><p>Dean grabbed a packet and then opened another cabinet, grabbing a mug. He tore the packet open and emptied the contents into the mug, and then he went over to the fridge. Opening the door, he grabbed the milk and twisted the cap off, pouring some into the mug. Then he put the milk away and grabbed the mug, opening the microwave and putting it in. He set the timer for two minutes and started it up, drumming his fingers on the countertop while he waited.</p><p><em>Come on, come on… </em>Dean opened the door just before the beeper could go off, and he pulled out the mug. He grabbed a spoon from the drawer and stirred the mix and milk, wincing at the clink of the metal on the ceramic. But no one woke up, and Dean stirred until the liquid in the mug was a creamy, medium brown. <em>Okay, that’s ready.</em></p><p>Dean went through the dining room and back the hall, keeping his footsteps soft. He went in the first door on the left—his bedroom—and opened the chest at the foot of his bed, going through the contents. He moved aside his very first leather jacket and there, on top of some childhood drawings of Sam’s, was an old radio. Dean grabbed it and closed the chest, standing up and walking back out to the kitchen. Then he picked up the mug and went out into the garage.</p><p>“Here we go.” Dean walked up to Castiel and crouched down, holding out the mug. “I always used to make hot chocolate when Sammy would have a nightmare or couldn’t sleep.”</p><p>Castiel, who had been scratching himself again, slowly reached out and took the mug, looking at the drink with a bewildered expression on his face.</p><p>“It’s pretty hot, so be careful.” Dean looked down at the radio he was still holding, lips pursing as he turned it over in his hands. “It’s been a while since I used this, but…” He found the power button and switched it on, static rising from the speakers. “Let’s see if we can get—” Dean cut himself off when he lifted his head and found Castiel still sitting, motionless, with the hot chocolate mug in his hands.</p><p>“You drink it,” Dean said, making a drinking motion with his hand. “Down the hatch, Cas.”</p><p>Castiel blinked twice, looked down at the mug, and then looked at Dean. He blinked again, and his confusion seemed almost greater than before.</p><p>“What’s the problem?” Dean asked, and then he let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, Sam probably holds your hand and sings a lullaby or something gay like that, but I’m not Sam. Just drink your hot chocolate and stop looking at me like that.”</p><p>Castiel blinked yet again, and then he looked down at his drink. He lifted the mug a little and leaned in, sniffing the beverage.</p><p>Dean rolled his eyes and got back to the radio, grabbing one of the dials and slowly turning it. He tuned it to a station that played classic rock, and then he turned it up a little, setting it on the floor beside Castiel’s mattress.</p><p>“There.” Dean put his hands in his lap, looking at Castiel and feeling rather satisfied with himself. “You’re all set.”</p><p>Castiel looked at Dean for a long moment, and then, with a confused and nervous expression on his face, he finally sipped the hot chocolate. His eyes widened a bit, and he looked at the cup in surprise, his lips moving like he was trying to taste every drop in his mouth.</p><p>Dean couldn’t help but laugh a little, his brow arching as he watched the changing emotions on Castiel’s face. “I take it that means you like it?”</p><p>Castiel nodded, taking another, larger drink and holding the liquid in his mouth.</p><p>Dean laughed again and shook his head, but he didn’t make any more comments. He let Castiel enjoy his treat, weird facial expressions included, and picked up one of the comics on Castiel’s mattress. Dean read and occasionally hummed along with the radio while Castiel drank his hot chocolate, and as the minutes passed, Dean saw Castiel’s eyelids begin to droop.</p><p>“Alright.” Dean got to his feet with a grunt, closing the comic book and putting it on top of the pile by the mattress. “Bedtime.”</p><p>Castiel looked up at Dean, both hands still cradling the mug, and despite the fact that he could barely keep his eyes open, he seemed hesitant to sleep.</p><p>“Come on.” Dean took the mug from Castiel’s hands and then grabbed the blanket, shaking it out. “Lay down.”</p><p>Castiel bit his lip and cautiously eased himself onto his side, one wing spread out on the floor while the other folded over his body.</p><p>Dean flicked the blanket again and then covered Castiel with it, tucking the corners and sides in so Castiel was nestled in snugly. Dean was a pro at tucking people in.</p><p>“Now, listen to the radio and get some sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”</p><p>Castiel nodded his head, a faint smile pulling on the corner of his mouth. He shifted in his blanket cocoon, and after watching Dean for a second more, he gently closed his eyes.</p><p>Dean rolled his eyes and headed back into the house to put away the hot chocolate, wondering when and how he had gotten roped into taking care of Sam’s pet.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, Sammy. You and your bleeding heart.</em>
</p><p>Right. Sam was the one with the bleeding heart.</p><p>Right.</p><hr/><p>“We’re about an hour away from Boulder City, so let’s cover the basics.”</p><p>Sam grabbed his bookmark and placed it in the old, Enochian manuscript he had been reading, setting the book down on the backseat between himself and Castiel. Castiel glanced at the book, but then his eyes were on John, his expression showing he was ready to take on whatever hunting had to offer.</p><p>“Now, this is a bit of a complicated one.” John sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Lake Mead is already known as a deadly park, but this year, they’re dealing with even more deaths, and it’s only August. Multiple entities have called the hotline, which is why we’re being brought in on this, and the general consensus is that something is making people disappear. They still have drownings, car accidents, suicides…” John rolled his hand to indicate the list going on. “But this year, they’ve got a much larger number of people disappearing without a trace. Namely, children.”</p><p>“Children?” Dean echoed, leaning against the passenger side window.</p><p>John nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “Yes. So far, everyone who’s gone missing has been under the age of twenty-three.”</p><p>“How many missings are we talking about?” Sam asked, moving slightly so he could see John seated in front of him.</p><p>John glanced in the rearview mirror. “Well, they aren’t exactly sure. It sometimes takes months for bodies to be found, so it’s possible the bodies are still there and just haven’t been discovered yet. But the report said there’s been nine suspected drownings without bodies, so assuming that at least a couple are natural drownings…”</p><p>Sam nodded a few times, pursing his lips. “That seems like a lot. Why didn’t they call before now?”</p><p>“Well, like I said, Lake Mead is known for being dangerous, so it probably didn’t occur to them that a monster could be behind their suspicious number of deaths.” John shrugged his shoulders. “People have only known about monsters for thirty years, give or take, so they got used to their death toll before knowledge about monsters was common. They only thought to call for help when it spiked this year.”</p><p>Sam rubbed idly at his chin, his gaze wandering down to the floor. “Makes you wonder how long this monster has been around, and if it didn’t just show up, what’s making it take more victims than usual?”</p><p>Dean waved it off. “Psh. It’s a monster. It’s doing what monsters do. Let’s just find the thing and kill it.”</p><p>Sam gave Dean a <em>look</em> and muttered dryly, “That’s what I’m trying to do, Dean.” He looked at Castiel then, a smile pulling on the corner of his mouth. “We’re gonna figure out what’s taking people from the lake, right, Castiel?”</p><p>Castiel smiled back and nodded, seeming somewhat excited about the prospect of hunting.</p><p>Sam looked back toward the front of the car. “Just find a library to drop us off at, and we’ll be good.”</p><p>John opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then he closed it and shook his head.</p><p>Sam was fine with that. Whatever John had planned to say probably stood a high chance of ticking Sam off. Like, for example, asking if Sam had the angel blade on him, which Sam reluctantly did. Or, also for example, suggesting they stay hidden in a motel, which Sam had only planned on doing to hide Castiel’s wings.</p><p><em>At least he’s not keeping Castiel under lock and key. </em>Sam glanced over at Castiel, who was mimicking Dean and leaning against his door, gazing out the window at the afternoon sky. <em>I know there’s a reason Castiel hurt humans in the past. I know he had a good reason.</em></p><p>How Sam knew that exactly, he wasn’t sure, but he knew it. He was choosing to trust his gut, even if his family wouldn’t, and he believed that once Castiel could talk again, Sam would be getting some perfectly reasonable answers to his questions.</p><p><em>Maybe watching how he hunts will give me some ideas, </em>Sam thought, picking up the Enochian book he had set aside and opening it to the page where he had stopped. <em>Or maybe we’ll find something on this hunt that can help us break the spells on Castiel.</em></p><p>And with that thought tucked away in his mind, Sam settled in for the last hour of the trip.</p><hr/><p>Sam leaned back in his chair and pressed his palms to his eyes, groaning loudly. He continued to lean back, arching his back until he felt a satisfying succession of pops, and then he dropped his arms to his sides, staring up at the fluorescent ceiling lights.</p><p>Castiel made a guttural noise of agreement, staring at the screen of the library computer he had been using since they arrived.</p><p>Sam sighed and turned away from his laptop, looking at Castiel. “Okay, let’s go over what we know.” He took a deep breath and started ticking off the characteristics on his fingers. “Eight out of nine missings were last seen near or in the water, so we believe this is a water monster of some kind.”</p><p>Castiel nodded seriously, a thoughtful purse to his lips.</p><p>“No bodies have been recovered,” Sam continued, “so we believe this creature is doing something to them. This creature is only taking children or young adults. In some cases, life vests were found floating on the surface of the water, so the creature has dexterity and at least some level of thought outside of instinct.”</p><p>Castiel continued to nod as Sam spoke, the crease in his brow growing deeper. He pressed his lips together in a thin line and shook his head, seeming frustrated with their lack of progress.</p><p>Sam picked up one of the missing files John and Dean had emailed to him after talking to the police. “There has to be more we can glean from the files.”</p><p>Castiel reached up to grip his head. “<em>Shandeskah.</em>”</p><p>Sam frowned slightly, setting the file aside and grabbing the Enochian dictionary he had brought along. He opened the text and quickly flipped to the ‘S’ section, thinking about the word for a second before flipping several more pages in search of ‘SH.’</p><p>“S-H-A?” Sam asked, skimming the words with his eyes.</p><p>Castiel nodded, watching Sam navigate the text.</p><p>“Okay, and then N… D…” Sam pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and idly chewed while he looked up the word, spelling it out bit by bit until he found what he was looking for. “<em>Shandeskah. </em>‘Familiar.’ Is that right?”</p><p>Castiel nodded enthusiastically, tapping the side of his head.</p><p>“So, you recognize the characteristics?”</p><p>Castiel nodded again, but then he looked down, his expression twisted up in frustration. Whatever he knew, he was having a hard time remembering it, and Sam had no idea how to help him.</p><p>“Well…” Sam let out a sigh and closed the dictionary. “I guess all we can do is keep looking. Maybe something will trigger your memory.”</p><p>Castiel frowned, looking very much like he wasn’t pleased with that answer, but he nodded his head and turned back to his computer.</p><p>Sam set the dictionary on the table beside him and got back to his laptop, copying Castiel and diving back into research. Seconds turned into minutes, time slowly passing as they poured over whatever information the computers spat out. Occasionally, Sam would type new keywords into Castiel’s search engine, but Castiel actually looked past the first page of results, so Sam mostly stuck to his own computer.</p><p>Two or three times during their research, the librarian came over to ask if they needed anything. She was aware that they were there to hunt the monster at Lake Mead, and she was apparently expressing her gratitude by offering her assistance. Sam appreciated the bottles of water and bits of local knowledge, so he didn’t complain.</p><p>Then minutes turned into hours, during which Sam got a call from John. There wasn’t a whole lot of new information for John to add, and the more they discussed the case, the more it looked like they were up against something unknown. Sam wished he could offer something helpful, but other than Castiel’s vague sense of familiarity, they hadn’t made any progress in discovering what it was.</p><p>Twenty more minutes passed, and right around the time Sam started thinking it was a lost cause, Castiel slammed both hands down on the table.</p><p>“Qalupalik!”</p><p>Sam blinked, slowly arching a brow. “Kalu-what now?”</p><p>Castiel opened a new tab and started picking out letters on the keyboard, jabbing each one with an index finger. “Qalupalik,” he repeated.</p><p>Sam frowned and moved his chair closer, looking at Castiel’s screen with a faint hope rising in his chest. Maybe Castiel had remembered whatever he had found familiar earlier.</p><p>Castiel waited until the screen loaded, bringing up results for ‘qalupalik,’ and then he pointed to the word and repeated himself. “Qalupalik.”</p><p>Sam frowned, both confused and discouraged. “Yeah, I got some results for that earlier. It’s a water monster that steals children, which fits, but it’s an Inuit legend. They live in the Arctic. We’re too far south.”</p><p>Castiel shook his head emphatically, reaching across Sam and grabbing the Enochian dictionary. He opened the book in the middle and started leafing through the pages, searching frantically and muttering under his breath. “<em>Nenata. Nenata.</em>”</p><p>Sam watched Castiel’s finger slide across the pages, eventually stopping on the word he was saying aloud. Sam read the translation and then looked at Castiel. “They like to travel?”</p><p>Castiel nodded a few times and set the book on the table before pointing to the space behind him. He stretched his arms out and flapped them a few times, and then he pointed behind himself again.</p><p>“Your wings?” Sam frowned, somewhat confused, but he tried to figure out what Castiel was saying. “What about your wings?”</p><p>Castiel covered his eyes, waited a second, and then uncovered them, looking at Sam expectantly.</p><p>“Hidden?” Sam tried.</p><p>Castiel nodded, pointed to the computer screen, and pointed to his intangible wings again.</p><p>Sam let out a curse. “You’re saying the qalupalik can hide their appearance? They can look human?”</p><p>Castiel nodded yet again, his movements rushed. Sam just wished he knew what emotion was behind the hurry. Was it excitement at finally finding an answer? Was it overflow from frustration at their inability to communicate easily? Was there something important about the qalupalik that Castiel knew and Sam didn’t?</p><p>“Okay, let’s take this one step at a time.” Sam grabbed his phone and flipped it open. “Let me call Dad and at least tell him to stay away from the water until we know how to kill this thing, then—”</p><p>Sam came to an abrupt stop when someone plucked the phone from his hand, and the next instant he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.</p><p>“Sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”</p><p>Sam stared at the young man wielding the weapon, a thousand calculations running through his brain at once. He recognized the man as someone who had been browsing the library while they researched, and even though the man looked like a normal human in his mid-twenties, there was no doubt in Sam’s mind that he was a qalupalik.</p><p>
  <em>So, he’s been stalking us, waiting to see if we would figure out what he is.</em>
</p><p>Sam didn’t let himself glance at his messenger bag, where his own firearm was ready and waiting, and he didn’t let himself look at the people scattered around the library. He kept his eyes on the threat and stayed calm, opening his mouth to speak.</p><p>“Never thought I’d see an angel working with a hunter,” the qalupalik commented, green eyes flickering over to Castiel. “Of course, if you couldn’t sense that I wasn’t human, that means you’re almost out of grace. I take it the hunter’s been siphoning your supply?”</p><p>Castiel’s response was to bare his teeth and growl, blue eyes narrowed dangerously.</p><p>Smirking, the qalupalik put his attention back on Sam, the muzzle of his gun trained diligently on Sam’s chest. “Looks like the angel’s fond of you.”</p><p>“You realize,” Sam interrupted, his gaze unwavering, “that if you kill me, every hunter in the network is going to descend on Lake Mead.”</p><p>The qalupalik let out a soft sigh, his lips pressed into a tight line. “It’s… not ideal, no. But you haven’t really given me much choice. I can’t let you warn the other hunters, and I can’t let your research continue.”</p><p>Sam opened his mouth to counter, hoping to keep the qalupalik talking as long as possible, but he was cut off by Castiel growling out a furious, “Qalupalik!”</p><p>The qalupalik arched a brow and looked at Castiel with a disinterested, “What?” He laughed then, shaking his head. “What are you going to do without your grace, little angel?”</p><p>Castiel’s response was to open his mouth wide, a high-pitched ring sounding out. It quickly grew in volume, the lights above them flickering as the windows began to rattle, and someone in the library screamed.</p><p>The qalupalik took a half-step back, dropping Sam’s phone to cover one of his ears but still managing to hold the gun out toward Sam.</p><p>Sam was covering both of his ears, still not looking at his bag but trying to find an opening where he could grab his weapon.</p><p>Everything happened at once.</p><p>Castiel closed his mouth and launched himself from his chair, tackling the qalupalik to the ground and grabbing his gun-wielding arm with both hands. He pushed the arm to the ground and pinned it, but due to his silence, the qalupalik no longer needed to cover his ear. The qalupalik’s fingertips morphed into sharp talons, and he dug them into Castiel’s neck before tearing Castiel’s flesh from left to right.</p><p>In all the chaos, Sam had grabbed his gun, and right around the time Castiel clutched his own throat, Sam was leveling his sights on the qalupalik.</p><p>“Castiel, get back!”</p><p>Castiel jumped off of the qalupalik and fell backwards, both hands trying to stop the blood gushing from his throat.</p><p>Sam fired a round into the monster’s chest, but the qalupalik simply rolled away and staggered onto his feet. Sam fired again as the qalupalik ran for the door, but he couldn’t tell if he hit his target. He almost fired again, but as good as his aim was, he didn’t want to risk hurting the mother and child cowering in the aisle the qalupalik ran past.</p><p>“You!” Sam pointed to the librarian. “Call 911!”</p><p>Sam watched the qalupalik burst through the front doors of the library, and he allowed himself a fraction of a second to wonder where it was going, and then his attention was on Castiel.</p><p>“Castiel!” Sam rushed over to the fallen angel, crouching down beside him and trying to get a good look at his neck. “Let me see, let me see.”</p><p>Castiel looked at Sam with a faint glimmer of fear in his wide, blue eyes, but he obediently removed his hands from his wounded neck.</p><p>Sam was relieved to see that the four gashes, while deep, didn’t appear to hurt anything but skin and blood vessels. “Okay, okay. Cover it again, and keep it covered until the paramedics get here.”</p><p>Castiel did as he was told, pressing down on the wound and trying to stop the blood flow. He nodded in the direction of their computers and uttered a questioning noise, like a cross between a hum and a chirp.</p><p>“Don’t worry about that. We’ll have plenty of time to research.” Sam looked over at his phone, still on the floor where it had been dropped, and he reached out to grab it. “I have to call Dad and make sure he and Dean stay away from the water, but then we’re putting the hunt on hold until you’re patched up, okay?”</p><p>Castiel blinked his owlish eyes and nodded his head, not seeming to care whether or not he was a priority.</p><p>It made Sam sad to see Castiel caring so little about himself, but Sam didn’t dwell on it long. He put his attention on his phone and immediately called his dad, putting the device to his ear and listening to the ring.</p><p>“Tell me something good, Sammy.”</p><p>“It’s a qalupalik,” Sam rushed. “I know you have no idea what that is. I don’t, either. I just need you and Dean to stay away from the water until I have a chance to figure this out.” He took a breath, silently willing the ambulance to come faster. “I don’t know how many there are, but one of them was here at the library watching us. I shot it, which seemed to do nothing. Castiel needs a hospital, so we’re gonna be a little while.”</p><p>“Are you okay?” was the immediate question.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sam put his gun down and switched his phone to his dominant hand. “Castiel got clawed in the neck. I think he’s gonna be fine.” Not that John asked, but Sam didn’t really care whether or not John wanted to know. “Dad, if there was only one qalupalik at Lake Mead—”</p><p>“Why would it go after the researchers and not the hunters who are the bigger threat?” John finished Sam’s question for him, following it up with the obvious next step. “Meaning there’s more than one of these things, and at least one of them is following us, too.”</p><p>Sam got up and walked over to the table where they had been researching, wedging his phone between his head and shoulder. “Do you think we should call Bobby?”</p><p>“Bobby, Ellen, Jo. Better safe than sorry until we know more.”</p><p>“Got it.” Sam grabbed the Enochian dictionary and shoved it into his messenger bag. “I’ll take my laptop to the hospital and try to do some research while they treat Cas.” He closed and picked up the laptop in question, sliding it into his bag next to the dictionary. “You and Dean stay safe until I can piece together a way to kill these things.”</p><p>“Anything you can tell us about how they look or how to identify them?” John asked.</p><p>Sam scoffed. “Yeah, they look just like regular humans until they’re ready to attack. I can tell you their fingers or fingernails turn into claws, but I don’t know anything else right now.” He glanced at the front doors to the library when he heard a siren approaching. “I gotta go, Dad. The ambulance is almost here.”</p><p>“Alright. Stay in touch.”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>Sam snapped his phone shut and shoved it into his pocket, grabbing his bag and throwing the strap over his shoulder. “Come on, Cas.”</p><p>Castiel looked up from his spot on the floor, and after a moment of hesitation, he got his feet beneath him. He staggered a bit, his eyes going out of focus, and Sam grabbed him by the arm.</p><p>“You lightheaded?” Sam asked, trying to keep Castiel steady.</p><p>Castiel looked over at Sam and blinked a few times, slowly nodding his head.</p><p>Sam frowned, concerned but fairly confident no serious damage had been done. Still, Castiel was bleeding a lot, and it would be better to get him to the hospital as soon as possible.</p><p>“Let’s walk over to the door awhile,” Sam suggested, tugging on Castiel’s arm lightly.</p><p>Castiel nodded again and began walking, sticking close to Sam and keeping both hands pressed tightly against the tears in his throat.</p><p>They were about halfway across the library when the paramedics came through the doors, and Sam quickly helped Castiel over to the gurney. Sam explained that they were hunters, and that Castiel couldn’t speak, and then they were on their way to the hospital.</p><p><em>What is it with us having to hunt things we know nothing about? </em>First, they had learned that demons had Castiel before the vampires, and then they were faced with something from legends that weren’t even native to their country.</p><p>Well, Sam welcomed the challenge. He would do whatever it took to keep his family—and his new friend—safe from harm. He wasn’t about to take anything lying down. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it. It was just going to take a little extra work.</p><p>That’s all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We told the local authorities to cordon off the lake and keep people out. Bobby, Ellen and Jo are on their way, but it’s gonna be at least a day before they get here. How’s the angel?”</p><p>Sam let out a sigh, using the sound to share his frustration, and he did his best to answer his dad’s question. “Well, it’s complicated.” That was an understatement. “I told them about his healing ability, and they weren’t sure how he would react to anesthesia, but they decided to take him into surgery. They said they couldn’t get the bleeding stopped, and then they said something about vascular damage.”</p><p>“Sounds pretty serious,” John commented. “Are you sure he’s healing? Maybe he used all his grace up hiding his wings.”</p><p>“I thought about that.” Sam wet his lips. “His wounds looked pretty deep, but he didn’t start coughing up blood, and he seemed to be able to breathe okay. I thought maybe that was due to his healing ability?” Sam sighed as soon as he made the suggestion, reaching up to rub his temple. “I don’t know. I wish we knew more about angels.”</p><p>“Yeah, well…” John sighed, too. “Maybe with Castiel’s help, we can start building up our knowledge.” He paused. “I know you’re worried about him, and I’m not trying to change the subject, but have you found anything on the qalupalik?”</p><p>Sam looked down at his laptop, which was sitting open on his lap with some infuriatingly useless information on its screen. “I’ve found plenty, but there’s nothing about how to kill them. Everything I read says the Inuit would just tell their children to stay away from the edge of the ice.”</p><p>“Well,” John started, and he sounded far more optimistic than Sam felt. “Bobby said he was going to call around, and the hunters he knows have got some pretty obscure knowledge. Maybe one of them will be able to tell us something.”</p><p>“Yeah, maybe.” Sam opened a new tab and mentally prepared himself for the work ahead. “I’ll keep looking on my end, and maybe Castiel will have some information when he gets out of surgery. He seemed to know at least a little bit about them when we were researching.”</p><p>“Alright.” John paused, and it sounded like he might have been taking a drink of something. “Dean and I are working on a map, trying to see if we can figure out the location of their home base. We’ll let you know if we find anything.”</p><p>“Be careful,” Sam warned. “We have no idea how they knew we were in town, or how the one who attacked us knew we were at the library. They could be watching you very closely.”</p><p>“Believe me, we’re keeping an eye out. We were even thinking some of these qalupaliks might be part of law enforcement, because it explains how they knew we were coming, so we’re trying to discreetly investigate that angle.”</p><p>Sam opened his mouth to respond but stopped short when he saw a man in scrubs walking his way. “I’ll try to do some research on the local police department and park rangers for Lake Mead, but I gotta go right now. I’ll talk to you later.”</p><p>John didn’t even question it. “Bye, Sammy.”</p><p>Sam snapped his phone shut and, when he was sure the man was walking toward him, slowly closed his laptop. He set it on the chair next to him and stood up, flashing a brief and somewhat tight smile.</p><p>“Mr. Winchester?” the man asked, extending his hand for a shake. “My name is Dr. Page. I’m the surgeon who worked on Castiel.”</p><p>“Call me Sam,” Sam answered, shaking the offered hand. “How is he?”</p><p>“He’s going to be just fine.” Dr. Page slipped his hands into the pockets of his scrubs. “His healing ability is going to help him recover much faster than a patient normally would, and it didn’t cause much trouble during the surgery itself.”</p><p>Sam let out a small sigh of relief. “That’s good.” He laughed a bit nervously. “To be honest, I don’t know how much of a healing ability he even has. Our situation is a bit… unconventional.”</p><p>Dr. Page chuckled good-naturedly. “I guessed as much.” He held up a finger. “I can tell you I definitely saw some scarring that leads me to think his healing ability was enough to keep him alive, but it’s not healing him much beyond that.”</p><p>Sam nodded but didn’t interrupt, waiting to see what else the doctor would offer.</p><p>“We got the bleeding stopped and repaired the damage to his veins. We stitched him up with absorbable sutures because we expect his wounds will be completely healed in a matter of days.” Dr. Page pointed over his shoulder. “He’s not awake yet, but you can go into his room. However…”</p><p>Sam squinted slightly, a cautious tension spreading through his body. He had no idea where Dr. Page was about to take the conversation, but he had a sick, sinking feeling that it wasn’t going to be good.</p><p>“I have a few questions about your ‘unconventional’ situation,” Dr. Page finished, a knowing kind of smile tugging on the corner of his mouth.</p><p>Sam regarded the doctor carefully. “Castiel isn’t a threat to anyone in this hospital. I understand that angels are normally a danger to humans that go anywhere near them, but Castiel is in a weakened state, and I’m here to keep an eye on him.”</p><p>Dr. Page broadened his smile, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “You’ve got the wrong idea, Sam. I don’t have a problem with Castiel.” He dropped his hands then, tapping his fingertips together and seeming to struggle with his words. “It’s… well, we have a situation here at the hospital.”</p><p>Sam blinked, confused and cautiously hopeful. “A situation?”</p><p>“It’s not a bad situation,” Dr. Page amended quickly. “It’s a very, very good situation, which is why we haven’t notified any authorities. But I thought maybe you, with your ‘unconventional’ situation could… perhaps find it helpful.”</p><p>Sam was growing more and more lost the longer Dr. Page went on, but he didn’t sense any danger, so he did his best to remain professional and find out more. “Okay. What can you tell me?”</p><p>“I have some questions first.” Dr. Page slipped his hands into his pockets and nodded his head in the direction of a nearby hall. “Come on. We can head to the post-op room while we talk.”</p><p>Sam was anxious to lay eyes on Castiel, so he quickly grabbed his laptop and shoved it into his bag. He felt the faintest twist in his gut when the metal of his laptop clinked against the angel blade he had begrudgingly crammed into the bottom of his bag before they left home. But he couldn’t focus on that, so he shoved it aside and threw his bag over one shoulder.</p><p>“Lead the way, Dr. Page.”</p><p>Dr. Page turned and started walking, turning his head and continuing to engage Sam in conversation. “My first question is, ‘Where are Castiel’s wings?’”</p><p>Sam didn’t sense anything off about the question, so he decided to answer it honestly. “Castiel is concealing his wings. He’s helping us on a hunt, and we felt the best way to keep the public from panicking was to keep them from realizing there was an angel around.”</p><p>Dr. Page pursed his lips and nodded a few times, considering the answer. It took a moment, but he seemed to accept the statement as fact, and then he moved on. “What is your relationship with Castiel?”</p><p>“It’s purely professional.” Sam wasn’t about to admit to their friendship until he knew more. “I come from a compound of six hunters, and I’m the one in charge of keeping an eye on him.”</p><p>Dr. Page raised his brow slightly. “You seem pretty invested in his wellbeing for someone who’s just supposed to keep an eye on him.”</p><p>Sam shrugged it off, feigning an unbothered perspective. “I guess it’s impossible for there not to be <em>some </em>attachment. He hasn’t done anything wrong since we’ve found him, and he’s a nice enough guy.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Dr. Page once again paused to consider Sam’s answer. “You said Castiel is in a weakened state. How did he come to be that way?”</p><p>“We’re not entirely sure.” Sam pushed his hands into his jean pockets. “We know a nest of vampires had him recently, and we found some evidence when we hunted them down.” Sam decided Dr. Page didn’t need to know about the rape. “According to Castiel, he was held by some demons before the vampires, but we don’t have much experience with demons. We haven’t found anything on them so far.”</p><p>Dr. Page hummed again, and then walked up to an elevator, pressing the up arrow to summon the box. “And what do you think about those vampires and demons? Are you grateful to them for weakening Castiel so you could restrain him?”</p><p>Sam stopped and looked at Dr. Page for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. He didn’t know what the doctor was getting at, and without knowing that, he couldn’t know what the best course of action was. His gut told him that everyone viewed angels as monsters, and that meant it wasn’t a good idea to publicly ally himself to Castiel. But there was something about the way Dr. Page worded his questions that seemed like maybe he was of a different mindset.</p><p>
  <em>What do I do?</em>
</p><p>Sam was pulled from his thoughts by the elevator doors sliding open, and he walked into the lift with Dr. Page as well as a nurse who had joined them. Sam was secretly grateful for the nurse’s presence, as it gave him some time to consider how he wanted to answer Dr. Page’s questions. So, Sam thought until the elevator came to a stop, and by the time he was walking down a new hall with Dr. Page, he had his answer.</p><p>“Let’s just say… I didn’t kill the vampires because they were vampires.”</p><p>Now, that could have meant any number of things, and because Dr. Page was an intelligent man, he probably knew that. Sam only hoped it would be enough.</p><p>“I see.” Dr. Page turned into one of the many rooms on the hall, leading Sam up to a bed with a soundly sleeping Castiel in it. “So, at least to some extent, you want to protect him.”</p><p>Sam was silent at first, walking around the bed and coming to a stop across from Dr. Page. He watched Castiel’s chest rise and fall, and then he met Dr. Page’s eyes with a single nod. “Yes. I do.”</p><p>Dr. Page stared at Sam for a few moments, and then he nodded and offered a simple, “I believe you.” He looked at Castiel and then looked back at Sam. “So, our situation is this.” Dr. Page took a breath. “We have been visited twice in the last… I would say three years, by an angel.”</p><p>Sam didn’t bother masking his surprise, but he didn’t say anything, waiting patiently for Dr. Page to continue.</p><p>“He doesn’t announce his arrival, and he keeps his wings hidden. Which, to be honest, I didn’t even know was possible until we were visited by him.” Dr. Page glanced down at Castiel again, and then he looked back at Sam. “His intentions have always been very straightforward. He heals people.”</p><p>Sam blinked in surprise, confusion furrowing his brow a moment later. “He heals people?”</p><p>Dr. Page nodded solemnly. “He can’t heal everything, but what he can heal, he does. Or at least, that’s what he tells us. For example, I heard from one of the emergency room nurses that he wanted to heal a broken leg, but he had to wait until it was set, otherwise it would heal in the wrong position. So, apparently, there are limits to his healing power.”</p><p>Sam was overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of information—especially the <em>good </em>information—about angels, and he found himself wishing he had a notebook on hand. But he didn’t, so he did his best to keep the information organized in his head to help him remember it.</p><p>“So,” Sam started, confusion still twisting his features, “this angel just… walks around the hospital and… heals people?”</p><p>Dr. Page nodded, and from the look on his face, he could hardly believe his own words. “Exactly. He just… walks from room to room, asks what’s wrong, and if he can heal it, he does.”</p><p>Sam nodded a few times. “Right, you said he can’t heal everything. Has he offered any explanation of how his healing powers work? Does he tell you why he can’t heal everything?”</p><p>Dr. Page shook his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “He <em>has </em>referred to himself as an ‘archangel,’ and he once told one of the nurses that a regular angel wouldn’t be able to heal as much as he can. But other than that, he hasn’t told us anything about his abilities.” Dr. Page paused then, holding up a finger. “Not that I know of, anyway. He might have told someone else.”</p><p>Sam was brimming with questions, and he wished Castiel was awake to vet some of the information he was getting, but he worked with what he had. “So, he called himself an ‘archangel,’ and he’s visited the hospital to heal people twice now. Do you know if he does anything like this anywhere else?”</p><p>“Well, that’s the problem.” Dr. Page sighed softly. “We appreciate all hunters do to keep us safe, but whatever his reasons, this angel is deciding to help us. We don’t want to call around to other hospitals for information and risk someone calling the hotline on him.”</p><p>Sam nodded understandingly, his eyes flickering briefly to Castiel. “Do you know <em>why </em>he’s choosing to do this? It’s… not really in an angel’s nature to help humanity.”</p><p>Dr. Page offered a helpless shrug. “When I asked, he laughed and told me, ‘this is my middle finger to Michael.’ I have no idea what it means, and from what I can tell, he hasn’t given anyone else a better answer.”</p><p>Sam was inclined to think Michael was another angel, but until he knew more, he supposed it was possible Michael was just about anything.</p><p>Sam pursed his lips. “He told you a bit about what he was and what he could do. Did he mention anything about himself? Or anything about what he plans to do in the future?”</p><p>Dr. Page cocked his head and lifted his hand, tilting it from side to side in a ‘so-so’ motion. “He told us his name was Gabriel, and he told us he would be back. Other than that, nothing.”</p><p><em>Gabriel? </em>Sam immediately thought of the dictionary weighing down his messenger bag. <em>Could it be the same angel? And if it is, what is he trying to accomplish? </em>Sam looked at Castiel, once again wishing he was awake. <em>And who is Michael? And what’s an archangel?</em></p><p>“Sam?”</p><p>Sam startled slightly, jerking himself out of his thoughts. “Sorry. Just… thinking.” That was a lame answer. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about this. Knowing more about this angel… or archangel… might help me understand more about Castiel.” He flashed a quick but encouraging smile. “I’ll be careful about who I share this information with.”</p><p>Dr. Page offered a smile of his own. “I would appreciate that.” He gestured to Castiel then, relaying instructions that were probably rehearsed. “Castiel should be waking up in about forty minutes to an hour. He should not drink any alcohol, operate heavy machinery, or make any important decisions for the next twenty-four hours.” Then, slightly less rehearsed, Dr. Page continued. “With his healing ability, I expect we’ll be able to release him shortly after he wakes up.”</p><p>Sam reached out his hand and smiled, incredibly grateful for all the doctor had done. “Thank you so much. Castiel and I really appreciate this.”</p><p>Dr. Page shook Sam’s hand and smiled. “You’re welcome, Sam. I wish you the best of luck.”</p><p>With that, Dr. Page strode out of the room, no doubt having a long list of responsibilities to get back to. And Sam blew his bangs out of his eyes and stared at the unconscious Castiel lying in bed.</p><p><em>What just happened? </em>Sam slowly slid the strap of his bag from his shoulder, turning around and dropping his bag on the hospital chair. <em>I think this is a good thing. I think. </em>He took a breath and turned back around, looking at Castiel again. <em>If Dr. Page is right, and Gabriel really is a kind of angel, this could be a brand new lead to follow. He might know something about the Enochian spells on Castiel and how to break them. </em>Then Sam had a thought. <em>He might know why Castiel had these spells put on him in the first place.</em></p><p>Sam reached up to rub his forehead, trying to juggle a thousand thoughts at once. <em>Everything in me wants to start researching local hospitals for so-called miracles, but I can’t. I have to focus on the qalupaliks. </em>He rubbed his forehead a little harder, and then pressed his palms against his eyes. <em>Castiel isn’t going anywhere, and I won’t let anything happen to him. He can wait.</em></p><p>Putting Castiel on the back burner left a sick feeling in his stomach, but it was what needed to be done. So, Sam pulled his laptop from his bag and opened it up, waiting for the screen to come to life. He bounced his leg a few times out of habit, and then he fished his phone from his pocket, checking the clock on the screen. It was 9:07.</p><p>
  <em>Okay, Sam Winchester. You’ve got exactly ten minutes to write down everything you can remember about what Dr. Page told you. Then you get back to work.</em>
</p><p>With that, a blank document was opened, and for the next ten minutes, Sam typed faster than he had ever typed in his life.</p><hr/><p>“Cas? You okay?”</p><p>Sam and John both watched in silence, sharing Dean’s sentiment, as Castiel grappled with the door to the motel room. Castiel ignored Dean’s question and pushed the door in, staggering over to the bed and falling facedown in the sheets. Sam had just barely opened his mouth to prod Castiel for an answer when they all heard the sound of fabric tearing and two massive, black-feathered wings burst into existence.</p><p>“Looks like <em>somebody’s </em>tired,” Dean quipped.</p><p>“No kidding.” Sam walked into the motel room and went around the bed so he was at Castiel’s head. “Hey.” He crouched down and reached out, rubbing Castiel’s back between his wings. “You did great, Castiel. Keeping your wings hidden all that time, even under anesthesia, must have been really hard.”</p><p>Castiel’s lips pulled into a weak smile, blue eyes half-lidded with sleep, and for a moment, Sam thought the conversation was over. But then Castiel’s eyes widened, and he looked at Sam with worry on his face. “Qalupalik?”</p><p>Sam smiled, trying to assure Castiel. “We’re all gonna get some sleep, Castiel. We’ll sleep in shifts and stay alert, and we’ll start working again tomorrow.” He rubbed Castiel’s back a few more times. “Just rest, okay? You really need it.”</p><p>Castiel nodded a few times, his eyes quickly returning to their bleary, half-closed state. “Sam… <em>visnangi.</em>”</p><p>Sam had no idea what Castiel was thanking him for, but he didn’t want to ask for clarification when Castiel so obviously needed to sleep. “You’re welcome, buddy. Just get some rest.”</p><p>Sam straightened up, turning toward the desk along the far wall where his dad was standing with a marked-up map. “Dad—” Sam cut himself off, looking back toward the motel door as Dean walked in with the blanket they kept in the trunk of the Impala.</p><p>Dean didn’t say anything, grabbing the hem of the blanket and letting the fabric drop from his arms. He flicked it a few times and then approached the bed, spreading the blanket over Castiel’s legs.</p><p>Sam smirked to himself, wondering if Dean knew how obvious his habitual brothering was, but he didn’t make a comment. He let Dean fuss over Castiel and put his attention back on John, walking over to join his dad by the desk.</p><p>“So, how’s the map coming?”</p><p>John sighed, scanning the document in question. “Seven of the nine missings were last seen at Boulder Beach, so we think their home base has to be near there, but we haven’t figured out what the qalupaliks are doing with the people they’re taking or where they’re hiding the bodies.”</p><p>Sam pursed his lips slightly and looked at the map. “Well, there’s a lot of different stories about what the qalupalik does with its victims. Some legends say they eat them, so that might be why we can’t find any bodies.” Sam held up a finger. “However, some of the legends I found said that qalupaliks take children and raise them as their own. Other legends said they feed on the youth of their victims to gain immortality. So maybe killing isn’t on the agenda for these monsters.”</p><p>John sucked air through his teeth, shaking his head and giving the map a look like there was something wrong with it. “That might explain why they aren’t leaving bodies, but with so many people out looking for the missing, how haven’t they been caught? Dead bodies are easy to miss, especially if the qalupalik are eating them. People who are still alive are a lot harder to hide. The qalupaliks would have to bring their victims food and water, keep them restrained, keep them from making noise—”</p><p>“Not to mention,” Dean piped up, going up to the desk and standing on John’s other side, “if the first victims are still alive, why do they keep taking new ones?”</p><p>Sam folded his arms over his chest, looking at Dean. “Well, we already think there’s more than one qalupalik. Maybe they each need their own source of energy.” He frowned then, looking back at the map. “That still doesn’t explain how they haven’t been caught. Unless…” He tilted his head to the side, his face scrunched up in contemplation. “They could be taking the victims away from their hunting ground. Las Vegas isn’t too far away; maybe they’re taking them there.”</p><p>Dean leaned against the desk, nodding his head in a sideways manner as he thought about Sam’s suggestion. “They’d have to be moving the victims at night to avoid detection.”</p><p>John put his hands on his hips. “Either that, or they’re taking the victims so quickly that they’re out of the area before the searches even start.”</p><p>Sam reached up to rub his face and then combed his fingers through his hair. “No matter how they’re doing it, the fact is, they’re not leaving any kind of trail we can follow.”</p><p>John looked at Sam then, turning his back toward Dean. “What did you find out about the local law enforcement?”</p><p>Dean took a few steps to get around John, looking at Sam with curious eyes that said, ‘Yeah, Sammy, what did you find?’</p><p>Sam actually perked up at the question. “I might actually have some good information on that. Let me get my laptop.”</p><p>Sam walked away from the desk, casting a brief glance at Castiel when he passed, and he headed out to the Impala. He opened the back door and grabbed his bag from the floor of the car, straightening up and giving the door a shove. He took two steps toward the motel room and stopped.</p><p>
  <em>What was that?</em>
</p><p>Sam turned on the spot, scanning the darkened parking lot. His eyes wandered over the doors to the other motel rooms, and then they went back out to the road.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>Sam shook himself and walked back into the motel room, shutting the door behind himself. He fastened the chain on the door, just to be safe, and then went back to the desk, pulling out the chair and sitting down. He pulled his laptop from his bag and put it on the desk, opening it and hitting the power button to wake it up.</p><p>Dean rubbed his hands together. “Oh, it’s getting serious now. Sammy’s got his laptop.”</p><p>“Shut up, Dean.” But Sam smiled. “Okay, here’s what I found.” He clicked on one of his browser tabs, pulling up a news story. “This is only one of the stories, but I found several news articles about a Ranger Karetak. He seems to be very active in the park, and he’s regarded as a bit of a hero. I looked it up, and the name is definitely an Inuit name, which is an interesting coincidence. On top of that, he looks a lot like an older version of the qalupalik that attacked Castiel and me at the library. I was thinking maybe father and son?”</p><p>John nodded a few times, leaning over Sam’s shoulder. “You might be on to something.” He paused, squinting at the screen, and then he looked at Dean. “Did we hear about a Ranger Karetak?”</p><p>Dean pressed his lips together and looked up at the ceiling. “Um…” He thought for a few more moments and then looked at John. “Maybe? It does sound a little familiar.”</p><p>Sam shrugged and turned in his seat so he could see his family. “I couldn’t really find anything suspicious about him, and I hate to go after a guy just because of a last name and an uncanny appearance.”</p><p>John motioned for Sam to get out of the chair. “I’ll take a look at those articles while I’m keeping watch. You two boys get some sleep.”</p><p>Sam almost objected, ready to insist they stay awake and try to come up with a plan, but a yawn stretched his mouth open before he could get a single syllable out.</p><p>John smirked, a knowing twinkle in his eye. “Bedtime, Sammy. We can come up with a plan tomorrow morning before Bobby, Ellen, and Jo get here.”</p><p>Sam nodded a few times, getting up from the chair and walking over to the second bed. He sat down on the edge, leaning down and beginning to untie his shoes.</p><p>“I can take the second shift, Dad.” Dean walked over to the bed Sam was on and sat down on the other side, reaching for his own shoes.</p><p>Sam pulled one shoe off and reached for the next one. “I can take the second shift, Dean. I don’t mind.”</p><p>“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Dean kicked his second shoe off and stood up again, pulling the comforter down. “I slept for most of the drive out here, unlike <em>someone, </em>who sat in the backseat studying Enochian for hours.”</p><p>Sam could hardly argue with that assessment, and he really <em>was </em>tired, so he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll get some sleep.” He took his other shoe off and set it with its twin, standing up and pulling the comforter down the way Dean had. “But I expect to have at least some watchdog responsibility.”</p><p>“We’ll all do our part,” said John as he gave the boys a look. “Now <em>sleep.</em>”</p><p>Sam got into bed and pulled the comforter up, rolling onto his left side and staring at Castiel’s sleeping form. He felt the bed sink behind him, and even though he was almost twenty years old, it still brought him comfort to know his big brother was sleeping with him.</p><p>
  <em>We’ll figure everything out. We always do.</em>
</p><p>Sam’s eyes slowly started to close, and even with the lights on, he knew it wouldn’t be long before he was asleep. He heard a couple clicks, and he knew John was reading the articles on Ranger Karetak. He heard a grunt and the shifting of sheets as Dean made himself comfortable. He heard the soft, scratching sound of Castiel’s wings brushing against the headboard.</p><p>
  <em>We always do.</em>
</p><hr/><p>They were at the waterfront when Sam heard it. He was sitting on the ground with Jo and Castiel, watching the water and silently bemoaning the fact that John had sent them on a job with no chance of action, and then it started.</p><p>“Do you hear that?” Jo asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.</p><p>Sam grabbed his bag and jumped to his feet in unison with Castiel. “Get up.” He reached down and took Jo by the arm, pulling her up. “Run to the bathroom. Hurry!”</p><p>Jo didn’t ask questions. She just turned on her heel and started running for the only building in sight, Sam and a wingless Castiel following right on her tail.</p><p>Sam turned his eyes toward Lake Mead as he ran, listening to the steady, almost mechanical hum rising from the water. It changed in tone and pitch, getting a little higher and then a little lower, a little louder and then a little softer, but it didn’t stop.</p><p>Jo tore open the door to the women’s bathroom and hurried inside, turning around to face Sam once she was in. “What is that?” she asked, keeping her voice low.</p><p>“I think it’s a qalupalik,” Sam panted, turning around and cracking the door open. “There were multiple sources that said it used a humming noise to draw curious children toward the edge of the ice. I disregarded it because no one reported a humming sound at the lake, and there wasn’t one when we were attacked at the library.” He peered through the crack in the door, trying to see if anything was coming out of the lake. “I don’t know why it would be humming now; there’s nobody here to lure into the water.”</p><p>Castiel tapped Sam on the shoulder, and when Sam turned to look at him, Castiel lifted his hands and started making the universal gesture for talking.</p><p>Sam looked out the door again and then looked back at Castiel. “Wait, so the humming is how they communicate?”</p><p>Castiel nodded a few times.</p><p>Sam turned his head toward the door again. “Okay, so there’s more than one of them out there right now.” He squinted, but he still couldn’t see anything in or around the lake that resembled a person. “They must be communicating because they didn’t think there would be anyone around to hear them.”</p><p>Jo approached the door, sticking her head beneath Sam’s and getting a look at the outside. “So, are they just talking, or does this mean they’re going to surface?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” Sam pulled away from the door and fished his phone from his pocket. “Jo, you keep an eye on the water. I’m calling Dad.”</p><p>“Got it.”</p><p>Sam flipped his phone open and pulled up his recent calls, picking John’s number from the list and pressing the call button. He put it to his ear and listened to it ring, watching as Castiel joined Jo by the door to help her look for any sign of the qalupaliks.</p><p>“What is it, Sam?” John asked as he answered.</p><p>“Dad.” Sam looked at the door, though he couldn’t see through the crack from where he was standing. “We think there’s some qalupaliks here. There’s this humming noise, and Castiel told us that’s how the qalupaliks communicate.”</p><p>“Do you have any idea where he’s getting his information from?”</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes. It figured John wouldn’t take Castiel’s word for it. “I also saw humming in the lore. We’re pretty sure we’re on to something here.”</p><p>“Alright. Bobby and Ellen are closer, so I’ll tell them to head to the waterfront. Dean and I will be there as soon as we can.” Then, somehow making his voice more serious than it already was, John continued. “Do <em>not </em>approach the qalupaliks if you see them.”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Sam replied obediently. For once, he wasn’t going to fight with John. Not when he could close his eyes and see those black claws buried in Castiel’s neck. “We’re in the bathroom closest to where you dropped us off. We’ll stay hidden until someone gets here, okay?”</p><p>“Good. See you soon.” With that, John hung up.</p><p>Sam snapped his phone shut and shoved it in his pocket, and even though he was curious to see if any qalupaliks would come out of the water, he knew the most important thing was to figure out how to fight them. So, he reached into his bag and pulled out the Enochian dictionary, drawing Castiel away from the door.</p><p>“Cas.” Sam sat down, cross-legged, on the floor of the bathroom, trying not to think about how gross it was. “What else can you tell me about the qalupaliks? Do you know any of their weaknesses?”</p><p>Castiel sat down across from Sam, mimicking his cross-legged position, and scratched his chin thoughtfully. “<em>Junda.</em>”</p><p>“Is that a J?” Sam asked, already turning to that section of the dictionary.</p><p>Castiel nodded his head, and then his expression grew thoughtful again.</p><p><em>Junda… Junda… That seems like it has pretty straightforward spelling… </em>Sam skimmed the words as he turned the pages, going letter by letter until he found the word Castiel had said. “Fire?” he asked, lifting his head.</p><p>Castiel nodded again.</p><p>“So,” Jo said from the door, not taking her eyes off the lake. “We can use Molotov cocktails.”</p><p>“Does fire kill them?” Sam asked, thinking of wendigos.</p><p>But Castiel held his hand up and tilted it from side to side, making a ‘so-so’ sort of gesture.</p><p>“So, it can kill them, but it also might just wound them.” Sam thought about that for a moment, and then he shook his head. “We don’t have any sources of fire with us, anyway.”</p><p>Jo let out a little laugh, and Sam could hear the grin in her voice when she spoke. “I would bet my entire savings account that your dad told you to stay away from the qalupaliks. Why are you talking about what we have on hand right now?”</p><p>Sam sent her a half-hearted glare. “I’m just trying to be prepared for whatever happens.”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” Jo said, making it clear with her tone that she didn’t believe him.</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes and ignored her, putting his attention back on Castiel. “What else can you tell me about how to fight these things?”</p><p>Castiel ran his finger across his throat, performing the universal gesture for decapitation.</p><p>“So, does decapitation kill them?” Sam asked.</p><p>Castiel nodded, but then he held a finger up. “<em>Rash.</em>”</p><p>For a fraction of a second, Sam almost thought Castiel was saying the English word ‘rash,’ but the way Castiel pronounced it, it sounded more like ‘rosh.’ So, Sam looked down at the dictionary again, flipping through the pages until he found the Rs. He started skimming the words, quickly finding the one he was looking for.</p><p>“Hard?” Sam looked at Castiel, waiting for confirmation before trying to figure out what the angel was telling him. “You mean, like, it’s hard to decapitate them?”</p><p>Castiel nodded, reaching up and wrapping his hands around his bandaged neck. He held them there for a second, and then he lowered them and, for lack of a better word, karate chopped his one hand with the other.</p><p>Sam dumbly copied the move with his own hands, trying to decipher the meaning. “Um…” He hit his own hand again. “You’re saying it’s something physically hard? Like you can hit them with a machete and it won’t work?”</p><p>Castiel nodded enthusiastically, blue eyes wide and shining with excitement.</p><p>Sam frowned to himself, thinking back to the library attack and trying to remember if the qalupalik had any kind of markings on his neck. <em>He was wearing a regular t-shirt, so I definitely saw his neck, but… I’m pretty sure it was a normal neck. </em>Sam hadn’t noticed the qalupalik covering or defending his neck in any way, either. <em>But his fingers changed into claws, and all the lore talked about very inhuman looking creatures. So, maybe they can change, and if they do, maybe they can protect their neck in one form but not the other. </em>Sam crinkled his brow. <em>If that’s the case, we have to find a way to sneak up on them and catch them off guard.</em></p><p>“Hey,” Jo whispered, still looking out the crack in the door. “There’s something coming out of the lake.”</p><p>Sam set the dictionary aside and jumped to his feet, rushing over and peering through the opening. He saw what Jo was talking about immediately, and while he had never seen a qalupalik not in human form, he was certain that was what he was looking at.</p><p>At first, all Sam could see was the head, the qalupalik slowly rising from the water as it walked toward the shore about thirty feet away. It had long, black hair that clung to its shoulders, and when its chest came out of the water, Sam determined it was male. So, not an it, but a he.</p><p>The qalupalik continued to walk toward dry land, exposing more of his body. He was completely naked, and his skin was a bluish-green color that shimmered in the sunlight. He walked with his hands at his sides, the fingers webbed and tipped by razor-sharp claws.</p><p><em>I wonder if that’s the one who attacked us. </em>But that didn’t really matter. <em>We can’t just hide in here and do nothing.</em></p><p>“I have a couple machetes in my backpack.” It was as if Jo read his mind.</p><p>Sam glanced at Castiel when he heard the angel shuffle closer to them, and then he looked out the door again. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to kill him, but we should be able to subdue him.”</p><p>“It attacked you with a gun, right?” Jo asked, stepping away from the door and shedding her backpack. “And it attacked Castiel with claws. So, it probably doesn’t have any kind of superstrength.”</p><p>“John?” Castiel asked, a confused expression on his face.</p><p>Sam frowned slightly, not taking his eyes off the qalupalik. “What?”</p><p>Castiel moved in Sam’s peripherals, and Sam looked over to see him holding an imaginary phone to his ear. “John,” he repeated.</p><p>Sam looked back at the qalupalik. “Yeah, Dad always tells me to stay away from the danger. But he’s not here, and I’m nineteen years old. I don’t have to listen to him.”</p><p>Castiel didn’t say anything, but when Sam glanced over at him, he saw a faint expression of disapproval. Which, considering Castiel’s nearly permanent disposition to please, was a welcome surprise.</p><p>“It’ll be fine,” Sam assured, looking back out the crack in the door.</p><p>Jo tossed her backpack on the floor and held out one of the machetes. “Here.”</p><p>Sam took the blade without looking away from the qalupalik. “He hasn’t changed into a human yet.” He slowly started to open the door. “We’re not gonna be able to sneak up on him. It’s flat, wide-open space out there.”</p><p>“Well, there’s three of us.” Jo poked her head out and nodded toward the water. “One of us should go left and try to get between him and the water.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam agreed, opening the door all the way and creeping out. “I’ll go left, you go right, and Castiel can go down the middle.”</p><p>“Got it.” Jo followed Sam out of the bathroom, moving past him to go to the right.</p><p>Sam started walking towards the lake, watching the qalupalik for the moment it realized they were there. <em>He’s going to see us any second. </em></p><p>As if hearing Sam’s thought, the qalupalik suddenly came to a stop and looked at them. They all took off running, spurring the qalupalik to do the same, and the chase was on.</p><p>Sam pumped his arms as he ran, inwardly cursing at the way the sand and gravel gave beneath his feet. He gripped his machete tightly, running along the shoreline, and he watched as the qalupalik started to curve back toward the lake.</p><p><em>If he makes it to the water, he’ll be gone. </em>Sam pushed himself harder, feeling a steady burn growing in his chest, and he ran as fast as he could. <em>We can’t lose this opportunity.</em></p><p>Sam spied Jo out of the corner of his eye, and he could see she was pulling ahead of both him and Castiel, closing the distance between her and the qalupalik. Sam kept running, ignoring the ache in his legs, and the more the qalupalik turned toward the water, the closer Sam got.</p><p>
  <em>Come on, come on… just a little more…</em>
</p><p>Sam reached out a hand, his fingers brushing against the slippery skin of the qalupalik’s arm. He sucked down a lungful of air and ran harder, reaching out again and just barely managing to claw at the qalupalik’s shoulder.</p><p>“Get him, Sam!”</p><p>Sam stretched his hand out again, boots splashing in the water, and with one, final push, he jumped and tackled the qalupalik to the ground. They tumbled over each other, submerging Sam in water, and he clung to the squirming muscles trying to get out of his arms. He turned his body and got his head above water, and he shouted an order he could only hope Jo and Castiel could pull off.</p><p>“Get him out of the water!”</p><p>The qalupalik twisted around, clawing at Sam’s arms, and it was like trying to hold onto a fish. Sam kept his arms wound around the qalupalik’s waist, completely reliant on his partners to help him, and the monster’s constant contorting forced Sam’s head back under. Sam pulled himself up again, gasping for air, and he felt a set of hands grabbing for the qalupalik.</p><p>“Come on, Castiel!”</p><p>Sam struggled to get his legs beneath him, and he caught a glimpse of Jo and Castiel trying to get a good grip on the qalupalik’s body. He tried to help them, but it was hard to do much of anything while sitting down and holding a creature that refused to stop moving.</p><p>Castiel suddenly took a step back and pulled his shirt up over his head. He took the fabric and reached out, looping it around the qalupalik’s neck and starting to walk backwards, pulling the qalupalik onto the beach.</p><p>“Good idea, Cas!” Jo ran into the water, getting on the other side of Sam. “Let me get his ankles!”</p><p>Sam let them do what they thought was best, completely focused on keeping his arms around the monster. He was sore from the vicious clawing, but he didn’t let up, and after a couple more minutes, it paid off.</p><p>Jo got a good grip on the qalupalik’s ankles, and with her and Castiel keeping the monster somewhat restrained, Sam was able to get to his feet. They carried the still struggling qalupalik onto the beach, getting a good twenty feet away from the water before they pinned their prey to the ground.</p><p>“Here.” Jo pulled a pair of handcuffs from her back pocket. “Get his hands behind his back.”</p><p>Sam sat down on the center of the qalupalik’s back, wrestling with the slick arms and, after several minutes, managing to put the wrists together. “Make them tight.”</p><p>“No kidding.” Jo snapped the cuffs onto the qalupalik’s wrists and then sat down on the qalupalik’s legs, keeping them from kicking. “Whew.”</p><p>Sam nodded a few times, panting heavily, and he looked at his bloody, scratched up arms. “Well.” He looked at Jo, a lopsided grin parting his lips. “We totally nailed that.”</p><p>Jo nodded a few times, also out of breath, and she held up a hand for Sam to high-five. “We came, we saw, we kicked butt.”</p><p>Sam hit her hand and then turned to Castiel and held up his own. “Good job, Castiel. It was smart thinking, using the shirt to get a good grip on him.”</p><p>Castiel put both ends of the shirt in one hand, and then he smacked Sam’s hand with a smile.</p><p>Sam smiled back, and then he leaned a little closer to the qalupalik’s head, trying to look at the neck underneath Castiel’s shirt. It was black and scaley, and he had to wonder if that was the ‘hard’ Castiel had been talking about earlier.</p><p>“I tried to slash it with a machete,” Jo said, answering the question Sam hadn’t asked. “It didn’t even leave a scratch.”</p><p>“Well,” Sam said, resituating himself on top of the qalupalik’s back, “we still have the option of fire.”</p><p>Jo let out a sigh, looking defeated and not at all encouraged by what Sam had said.</p><p>“What?” Sam asked, concern creasing his brow.</p><p>Jo only shook her head, her expression almost pained. “Our parents are going to kill us when they get here.”</p><p>Sam muttered a curse under his breath. “I completely forgot.” He reached up and ran a hand through his tangled, soaking wet hair. “I don’t suppose either of you have any bright ideas on how to lessen their anger?”</p><p>Castiel looked at Sam with a flabbergasted expression that said he could not believe what Sam was saying.</p><p>“Hey,” Jo commented, punching Sam on the shoulder. “What happened to, ‘He’s not here, I’m nineteen, I don’t need to listen to him.’”</p><p>Castiel extended his hand toward Jo and looked at Sam as if to say, ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying!’</p><p>Sam held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright. I… <em>may </em>have spoken in haste.” He rubbed the back of his neck a bit sheepishly. “It’s not like I <em>like </em>being at odds with him, it just tends to happen a lot.”</p><p>Castiel rolled his eyes, and Jo laughed, but that laughter was cut short when they all saw Bobby’s Chevrolet driving toward the bathroom.</p><p>“Well…” Sam took a breath. “It’s now or never.”</p><p>Jo groaned, probably because she had seen her mom in the passenger seat.</p><p>Castiel merely shook his head at them, tisking in disapproval.</p><p>Sam heaved a sigh. <em>Here we go.</em></p><hr/><p>It took a while for Ellen, Bobby, and John to be done yelling. John and Bobby mostly listed ways the hunt could have gone wrong, while Ellen threatened to spank them all, saying they had the obedience capabilities of three toddlers. Castiel had gestured wildly to Sam and Jo, pointing at them and trying to relay the understanding that disobedience had not been his idea, which led to more lecturing from John. Meanwhile, Dean had stood off to the side, arms folded over his chest, looking at the young group with a smug face that said they deserved everything they got.</p><p>Once the yelling was finally over, the three older hunters started working out what to do with the qalupalik the three younger hunters had captured. They quickly decided to take the qalupalik to the Boulder Beach Ranger Station, where they could use one of the back rooms for interrogation. Using what Castiel had told them about fire, they got a blowtorch from the Impala and started working on pulling answers from their captive.</p><p>It was about ten minutes into the interrogation that Sam noticed something wrong with Castiel. He was standing off to the side, as far away from the others as he could be, with both arms wrapped around himself. He was staring at the ground and swallowing hard, looking very much like he wanted to throw up, and he flinched every time he heard the qalupalik cry out in pain.</p><p>Sam knew what the problem was immediately, and he kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. He had been so distracted by Dean cleaning and bandaging his arms that it completely slipped his mind.</p><p>“Hey, Castiel.” Sam threw his bag over his shoulder—he didn’t like to leave the Enochian dictionary unattended—and started walking toward the exit. “Let’s go get some fresh air. They can handle things in here.”</p><p>Castiel looked up from the floor and nodded quickly, breathing through his nose with his jaw tightly clenched. He looked like he was barely keeping it together.</p><p>Sam kept his behavior and expression relaxed, not wanting to draw anyone’s attention to Castiel’s struggle. He walked past Castiel, and the angel fell in step, staying close as they walked out through the front doors.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Sam spoke softly once they were out, using one hand to gently usher Castiel toward the Impala. “I wasn’t thinking about how an interrogation would affect you. I was so wrapped up in the hunt and my arms, I just…” He trailed off and then sighed, shaking his head. “That’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Castiel shrugged his shoulders, eyes still downcast, and Sam got the idea that even if Castiel could talk, he wouldn’t.</p><p>“If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to, but…” Sam got to the Impala and opened the back door, leaning in and grabbing a blanket from the floor, “…do you know what’s bothering you?” He flicked the blanket and spread it over the hood of the Impala before he crawled on, sitting down and patting the space next to him. “I mean, is it just interrogation in general? Or is it the fire, because of what the demons did to your wings?”</p><p>Castiel climbed onto the hood and settled down next to Sam, sitting with his shoulders hunched and his hands in his lap. He took a breath and slowly let it out, shaking his head back and forth.</p><p>“Does that mean no?” Sam asked, watching Castiel’s face for an answer. “Or does that mean you aren’t sure?”</p><p>Castiel thought about it for a moment, and then he pointed to himself, braving a look at Sam.</p><p>“You?” Sam looked at Castiel for a few seconds, his face scrunched up in confusion. “What about you?”</p><p>Castiel wet his lips, and there was a sheen of fear in his eyes. He pointed to the building they had just left, and then he pointed to himself again.</p><p>Sam followed Castiel’s directions with his eyes, going through the familiar process of deciphering what Castiel meant. “Um… are you asking if we’ll use you in the interrogation? Because we won’t do that, Castiel.”</p><p>But Castiel shook his head. He put both hands on his chest, trying to emphasize himself in the equation.</p><p>Sam pursed his lips slightly, running through the different possible translations. <em>He could be worried the qalupalik is going to say something about him that someone doesn’t like. Or maybe it has nothing to do with the interrogation. Maybe he’s worried the other people in the building are going to find out he’s an angel. Or maybe—</em></p><p>Castiel pointed to his neck then—to the bandages and tape—and then he made some clawing motions over his chest and arms. He pointed to the ranger station again, and then he pointed to himself again, his eyes wide and full of a need to make Sam understand.</p><p>Sam felt a weight come down on his shoulders, and he pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Castiel, are you afraid we’re going to interrogate <em>you?</em>”</p><p>Castiel swallowed hard and nodded a few times, the muscle on his jaw pulsing as he ground his teeth.</p><p>Sam shook his head, his voice emphatic. “Castiel, I would never let them do that to you.” He reached out and put a cautious hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I know there are some things you haven’t told us. I know you hurt humans, and we don’t know why, but that doesn’t change anything.”</p><p>Castiel pointed to the ranger station again, looking at Sam with confusion and worry in his eyes. It was almost the same level of terror he had had on his face when John first brought him home from the market.</p><p>“I know…” Sam stopped, struggling with his words. “I know it doesn’t make sense. I know that if we interrogate the qalupalik for hurting humans, we should interrogate you for the same thing. I know that.” He took a deep breath and squeezed Castiel’s shoulder. “But…” He stopped again, wrestling with the terms and phrases flickering through his brain. “But…”</p><p>Castiel stared at Sam, eyes wide and frightened, waiting for the shoe to drop.</p><p>“But…” Sam wet his lips, thought for another second, and then smiled. “<em>Ordonra.</em>”</p><p>Castiel blinked, his mouth hanging open slightly.</p><p>“You’re my friend, Castiel. That’s the difference.” Sam shook his head, something like disbelief crossing his features. “I know you think we only keep you around and treat you nice because you’re weakened, but that’s not true. You can hide your wings, and you healed Dad, and you made that… weird, shrieking noise to fight the qalupalik. You’re getting your strength back, and I’m not afraid; I’m excited. I’m happy for you.”</p><p>Castiel’s head jerked in the faintest shake, confusion written in the bright blue shades of his eyes.</p><p>“I am,” Sam confirmed, squeezing Castiel’s shoulder again. “I really am. You’re my <em>friend, </em>Cas. I want to see you get better.” He shook his head, a reassuring smile on his face. “I would never let them hurt you. I promise.”</p><p>Castiel didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. He kept staring at Sam, a tumult of emotion written in his eyes. He was scared, he was confused, he was in disbelief, he was hopeful. Then his hand started to move, slowly traveling up from his lap to his shoulder, fingers tentatively slipping over the hand Sam still had there.</p><p>“<em>Ordonra,</em>” Castiel said softly, his tone <em>almost </em>making it a question.</p><p>“<em>Ordonra,</em>” Sam replied just as softly, his tone making it clear he was sincere.</p><p>Castiel looked at Sam for a moment more, and then his gaze slowly wandered out to the lake in the distance. He slowly leaned back until he was laying on the windshield, his hand still resting on top of Sam’s.</p><p>Sam was a little surprised by Castiel’s decision to relax, but he went along with it, laying down beside Castiel and crossing his feet at the ankles.</p><p>For a brief moment, Sam considered telling Castiel about what he had learned from Dr. Page. He thought it might do Castiel some good to know Sam was still looking for answers and a way to lift the spells Castiel was under. But, at the same time, it might make Castiel worry about what John and Dean’s reactions would be. It might make him worry about the rules he had broken; might make him worry that the angel visiting the hospitals would harm him further.</p><p>
  <em>Let’s just get this hunt handled. Then, when we’re back home and things are closer to normal, we can talk about it.</em>
</p><p>So, Sam kept his mouth shut, and the two lay on the windshield of the Impala, relaxing under the summer sun. Sam could feel the heat soaking through the blanket they were sitting on, and he could only imagine how high the temperature was. At one point, a ranger pulled into the parking lot in their car, and they went into the station a few moments later. Sam felt his arm start to fall asleep, but he didn’t move it.</p><p>“<em>Maldashen.</em>”</p><p>Sam turned his head to look at Castiel, somewhat surprised by the attempt at conversation, and it took him a second to realize he had to look something up. “Oh!” He sat up straight and grabbed the messenger bag strap from his shoulder, putting it in his lap and pulling out the dictionary.</p><p>Castiel sat up, too, and he reached out to take the book. He put it on his thighs and flipped through until he found the word he was looking for, at which point he put the book back in Sam’s lap and pointed.</p><p>“That does not look like the word you just said.” Sam gave Castiel a bit of a sideways look. “Where’s the ‘sh?’ I heard ‘ss’ not ‘sh.’”</p><p>Castiel shrugged, and then he laid back down on the windshield, resting his hands on his stomach.</p><p>Sam watched him for a moment, and then he looked back at the book, forgetting the phonetics and looking at the definition. <em>Drowned. </em>He looked back at Castiel. “You were drowned?” he asked softly.</p><p>Castiel nodded a few times, looking out at the lake with a vacant haze to his eyes. “<em>Tsaiga.</em>”</p><p>Sam slowly closed the book in his lap, approaching the topic cautiously. “You were drowned by the demons who had you?”</p><p>Castiel lifted one hand and rolled it in a circular motion, like one might make to subtly tell someone they were rambling.</p><p>Sam swallowed. “Um… it went on and on?”</p><p>Castiel nodded his head, and then he haltingly pulled his eyes off the lake, looking at Sam with defeated eyes. “<em>Ne dana.</em>”</p><p>“You’re sorry?” Sam echoed dumbly, immediately shaking his head. “Castiel, you have nothing to be sorry for. If the water aspect of this case has been bothering you, it hasn’t shown at all.” Sam huffed out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head again. “Yesterday, at the library, you <em>saved </em>me. And today, you helped Jo and me take down a qalupalik in its natural habitat. You’re doing awesome!”</p><p>Castiel looked away, and it might have been the summer heat, but Sam could have sworn Castiel’s cheeks were flushed.</p><p>“Seriously.” Sam grabbed Castiel’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You’re doing great, Cas.”</p><p>Castiel smiled faintly, and he seemed pleased with the praise Sam was giving him.</p><p>“And those demons that drowned you?” Sam continued. “We’re gonna find them, and we’re gonna make them pay, just like we did with the vampires.” He got a little louder as he spoke, excitement bleeding into his voice. “And we’re gonna find the angels that put these spells on you, and we’re gonna reverse them, and we’re gonna get you back to yourself.”</p><p>Castiel smiled again, an almost patronizing light in his eyes, and he shook his head. He always made that face and gave that response when Sam talked about breaking the spells on him, and Sam had learned not to let it bother him.</p><p>“We’re gonna do it, Castiel.” Sam squeezed Castiel’s shoulder again and then dropped his hand to the blanket. “Just you wait and see.”</p><p>Castiel still wore that expression of disbelief—that face of ‘you can’t possibly understand what you’re saying’—but he accepted Sam’s words and laid down on the windshield.</p><p>Sam leaned back, too, interlocking his fingers behind his head. He let out a sigh and felt the heat of the sun shining down on his skin. Soon, his body would tell him to go back into the cool air conditioning of the station, but Sam was staying out as long as the interrogation went on. He was going to keep Castiel as safe and comfortable as possible, no matter what.</p><p>“<em>Ordonra.</em>”</p><p>Sam smiled.</p>
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